


Forward

by kleighanna



Series: Recovery [3]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, Christmas, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2012-08-04
Packaged: 2017-11-11 10:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 45,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kleighanna/pseuds/kleighanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This Christmas, Hotch is stepping up his campaign to keep Emily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. December 1, 2011

**Author's Note:**

> So, this serves two purposes. For one, it's the third and final part of my "Recovery Series". Which, funny enough, wasn't supposed to be a series, but turned into one because, really, this.
> 
> Second, this is my annual Christmas self-challenge fic. I think this is my sixth. Could be my seventh. Either way, a couple of years ago I challenged myself to write a fic where I posted a chapter once a day, every day, until Christmas Day. That's the theory here. Some of you know this 'cause you've read His Christmas Wish for example, or For the Better.
> 
> That being said, I'm not always on the ball. Sometimes you guy'll get two chapters in a day because I've fallen behind. We all know this is an insane time of year and I'm going to be marking for a couple of days in the middle of December, plus the usual Christmas-related celebrations. The goal, at the end of the day, is to have all 25 chapters posted by the 25th of December, I think I'm aiming for sometime before noon Eastern Standard Time. I don't think I've ever missed it since I started, so here's to hoping!
> 
> And here's to hoping you guys enjoy! There are some veiled references to Endgame and Rise, but I'm pretty sure as long as you're familiar with Doyle, you'll be okay.

December first, unsurprisingly, is a day off for the BAU. With their return the previous night and Emily's stabbing, they deserve it. For Aaron though, day off means something entirely different with a seven-year-old. Especially one that seems to be Christmas obsessed. In fact, when Aaron steps out of his bedroom, he finds himself facing a living room that looks like Santa's workshop has exploded. He's not surprised, really. Jack's been talking about Christmas for weeks with anyone who will listen. Add that to his absurdly early rising hour and Aaron knows his son can get a lot done before he gets up.

"Hi Daddy!" Sure enough, Jack's managed to wrap himself in a bunch of garlands as he giggles on the floor.

Aaron pauses on his way to the kitchen, leaning down to ruffle his son's hair. "Morning, Jack."

"I'm a Christmas tree!"

He laughs, crouches down. "I see that."

Jack absolutely beams. "We're decorating, right, Daddy?"

"After breakfast," Aaron agrees.

"Can we have pancakes?" his little boy asks. "Can I help?"

"Not while you're a Christmas tree," Aaron replies, pushing himself up again. By the time Jack's untangled himself from the garland, coffee's percolating and he's got all of the fixings out to make pancakes. Jack drags over a chair and climbs up. From here until frying time, Aaron's just an observer. Jack's done this enough with him that he knows what to do and he gets fussy when Aaron contributes more than the final stir. So he watches his son, the way his tongue sticks out the side of his mouth.

Actually, that's a bit odd.

That's Jack's Face of Supreme Concentration. He doesn't need that much focus when he's making pancakes. He knows it pretty much by heart.

"Daddy?"

So there is something else. Aaron bites down on his smile. Sometimes he's afraid he doesn't know Jack at all. Moments like this, when he can tell there's something up with his boy and he's right, make it all better. "Yes Jack?"

"Does Em'ly celebrate Christmas?"

Well huh.

As if his son could read his mind.

But it is a segue and he's not going to give it up. Because while it's important that he makes sure Jack has an awesome Christmas, he's got other plans too. Plans that involve him and Emily and the relationship they've been avoiding long enough. She admitted without prompting Doyle was dead on the plane yesterday, so he knows she's ready to move forward. Or at least be coaxed in that general direction. "I think so."

There's a pause where Jack takes a moment to really pound more than mix the pancake batter. Then, "Daddy?"

He's stalling. His son is stalling. Wow. "Yes Jack?"

"Does Em'ly celebrate with her fam'ly?"

Aaron pauses. He actually doesn't have an answer to that. Sure, Emily and her mother aren't the best of friends, but that doesn't mean she doesn't celebrate. And he can't say he knows anything about her father. "I don't know."

Jack looks up, eyes shining, curious, hopeful. "Can we ask?"

He was planning to. "Sure."

"Now?"

"After breakfast," Aaron repeats.

Jack's quiet again while Aaron takes the bowl and gives it the final whisk. The seven-year-old waits until they're perfectly on the griddle before asking his next question.

"Does she like decorating?"

Aaron catches on quickly this time. "I think so." He knows so. The Christmases at the BAU are rarely without their decorations and Emily has always been in the thick of it.

"Would she like to decorate with us?"

He double checks that he's got a few minutes before he has to flip the pancakes, then turns to his son. "I don't know, Buddy. Emily got hurt."

Jack's eyes go wide, round and Aaron berates himself. "She's fine," he says, immediately scooping his son off the chair. Jack's arms wind tightly around his neck and Aaron knows he's not going to be able to get Jack to let go now. He's going to be antsy until he can see Emily, talk to her.

"Did she go to the doctor?"

"She did. The doctor sewed her up and gave her back."

A little bit of the tension leaks out of Jack's body and Aaron berates himself. If it was traumatic for him, for the team, what the hell did it feel like to Jack? His little boy's already lost so much.

"Daddy?" Jack begins on a whisper.

"Yeah, Buddy?"

"Will Em'ly come if I ask?"

In a heartbeat, but he's not sure he wants to let his son in on that little secret yet. But Jack's pushing himself away so he can see his father's face.

"Will Em'ly stay for Christmas?"

Aaron smiles. "You know what, Jack, I think that's a question we should ask her."

. . . . .

Emily doesn't do idle very well. She never has, really. As a child shipped from embassy to embassy there was always so much to explore in the new countries she lived in. As a teenager and young adult it was about doing as much as she could to avoid her mother. Then it was INTERPOL, Doyle the BAU…. She's used to crunching a bunch of things into a tiny time period.

So sitting around her house, when she knows the place is a mess and unable to do anything because of the eight stitches in her shoulder makes her  _very_  cranky. Extremely cranky, actually. She's supposed to wear the sling until the stitches come out and it's bulky and annoying. Plus, the medical tape over the piece of gauze covering the wound is itchy and tugging at her skin. She's utterly dreading attempting to wash her hair.

She hopes Derek took the chance to get a few licks in when he tackled the guy. That would make this slightly more worth it.

Though, she does recognize that her injury is something that needed to happen. The BAU isn't a place of sunshine and rainbows, and that's outside of the nightmares they experience with every case. It's dangerous, but there's something very different about intellectually going into a situation knowing you may not come out the other side and experiencing that danger first hand. Especially for Derek, since he's the one that was leaning over her as she bled out from a table leg to the stomach.

Which reminds her.

She's got her phone in her hand a few moments later, back on the couch and preparing to go in to find Derek's number when the thing rings in her hand. It makes her jump, jar the stitches and gasp. But it's Hotch's number, so she can't help the smile that blossoms. "Good morning."

"Em'ly!"

And cue the best light in her life. "Jack!"

He giggles. This happy little boy that's already experienced so much darkness. The fact that he can still giggle, laugh, be happy, play, is a testament to oh so much. "Em'ly, we're decorating today."

She's not surprised. Jack's been talking about Christmas since Halloween, and Thanksgiving happened in the middle. "Yeah?"

"Uh huh," Jack answers, and she can almost see his little head bobbing in a nod. "Will you come?"

Wait.

What?

"Decorate?"

"Uh huh," Jack answers. "Daddy says you can come if you celebrate Christmas."

She does, usually. At least in some way. Usually the 24th and 25th are spent alone, but she's a fan of the season, in a general sense. "Oh."

"Will you come?"

Well. On a good day, she can't say no to Jack, let alone a bad one. And it's not like she was planning on decorating her own apartment. It's too depressing for her to go through all that work just for her and Sergio. "I don't know, Buddy."

"Is this 'cause you got hurt?"

So Hotch did mention it. Emily had wondered. She's very aware of what Jack's been through and what losing her, even for six months, meant. There's a part of her that hates that she's added to it for any length of time. The guilt creeps up her spine and settles in the back of her brain. She can't help but wonder if Jack's push to have her there, to help decorate despite the fact that Hotch has mentioned she really can't, is perpetuated by the fact that she's hurt. Reid rode in the ambulance with her. Derek drove her to the precinct before the airstrip. But what about Jack?

"I won't be much help," she says carefully.

"S'okay!" jack says immediately, excitement back in his voice and maybe a tinge of childhood desperation. "It's Christmastime!"

His excitement is infectious and she finds herself chuckling. Then she hears a shuffling of the phone and Jack calling for his father, telling him he has to convince her. He  _has_ to.

"Emily."

"Hotch." Why the hell is her voice breathless? It's not like she has to hide the feelings that rise up in her stomach.

"He really wants you here." There's a pause, but it's charged, so Emily waits the few seconds for him to say, "So do I."

Her heart flips. "Is he okay?"

"He's… okay," Hotch agrees. It's not perfect though and she knows it. So when he goes on to tell her that it couldn't hurt to at least have her come by, she's got agreement on the tip of her tongue, despite the fact that something is telling her there's more to it. There's definitely more to it and this time it's not about the fact that she's exhausted or barely tethered to her sanity. It's something warm.

"Okay," she says finally. "Give me an hour."

. . . . .

He's seconds from calling her when the knock sounds on the door. It's been longer than an hour and he's tried to be cool about it - as cool as Aaron Hotchner can be anyway - but this is  _Emily_. He can't help but be a little nervous when she takes longer than an hour, even with the knowledge that she's got stitches and a sling and that can't make a morning routine easy.

Jack races by him. They've been putting off decorating, and Aaron's shocked, but Jack's been absolutely adamant that they don't start without Emily. It's kind of odd in some ways because he and Jack have decorated without her for three years, but suddenly his son is absolutely refusing to start a tradition without Emily's presence.

"Em'ly!"

Aaron's kind of glad the injury's in Emily's shoulder because Jack immediately wraps himself around her hips. It's the highest his little boy can reach, but Emily just smiles softly, affectionately. "Hey Jack."

"Daddy was getting worried."

Aaron lets her see it, just slightly, grateful when she offers him a rueful smile.

"It's very hard to wash your hair single handedly."

Which explains the wet ropes he can see trailing over the red peacoat she's got on. "Did you walk?"

"Yeah," she admits because there's no hiding the pink of her nose or cheeks. She's managed to get a hat on her head, but otherwise, her winter wear is minimal. He doesn't berate her because it's not  _that_  cold out. Chilly, really, but she'll survive this walk without the necessary winter accessories. "Decided I didn't want to brave the roads with only one hand."

He's glad. Really glad. And why hadn't he thought about that before? "We could have picked you up."

She smiles. "No. It was a good walk."

Jack's still clinging to her hips, looking up at her, his chin resting on her pelvis. She looks down as her hand cards through his hair. Aaron's struck with just how affectionate and careful she's being with Jack. She's never treated the seven-year-old with anything less than her utter adoration but it's the first time it's really hit Aaron that in some ways, she considers Jack hers. Or at least subconsciously treats him like he is.

"Ready to decorate?" she asks him and Jack's face lights up.

"I've been waiting  _forever_!"

Aaron has no idea where his son's streak of utter dramatics comes from, but he laughs with Emily as Jack scampers back to the piles of decorations in the living room. He takes the time to help her with her coat, sliding it off her shoulders. His brow wrinkles because she's wearing a dress shirt with her jeans and she offers him a rueful smile.

"Best thing I could put on," she offers. She shocks them both when her hand comes up to brush his cheek. "I was careful."

He separates himself from her because that intimate touch is too much this early in his plans and she's  _hurt_. The things he wants to do with that gentle brush are impossible with an injured shoulder. She looks just as shaken at the ease with which she touched him and he offers her a smile. The last thing he wants is to make her jumpy when this is for his son. Still, he can't help taking her in, top to bottom. The red blouse contrasts sharply with the white and black of the sling and it's too late to think about it because Jack's wandering back over, his eyes fixed on it.

Emily holds out her hand as she crouches down carefully. Jack's eyes stay fixed on the sling as she does, like he's transfixed with how close it could have been. Aaron knows Jack's not quite old enough to think that dark but it's all he can see.

"Are you okay, Em'ly?" Jack asks in a small voice.

She leans forward, kissing his forehead like she's done so many times in the past. "The doctors put me back together again," she promises. "Like Humpty Dumpty."

That gets a giggle, but Jack's still keeping his distance. He can't really jar her shoulder when she's standing, but he seems all too aware of the pain he can cause if he's not careful now that she's at eye level.

Aaron watches Emily's maternal instincts take control, watches her shift slightly and tug Jack against her good side. Aaron watches as Jack curls right into her side, wrapping his arms tightly around her neck. She hugs back, as tightly as one arm will let her, trying to convey to Jack that she's got all of her strength, she's just got a bit of a boo-boo. Yeah, a stab wound is a little more violent than just a 'boo-boo', but even Aaron knows that's information they can keep from Jack.

He steps towards them, running his hand over his son's head, ignoring the serious domesticity of both of them comforting his little boy. "See Jack? Emily's just fine."

And thank God.

. . . . .

Jack's having a blast.

Despite that moment when she first walked in the door, her injury has gone almost entirely unacknowledged. Well, they all know it's there but it's not something that they're actually talking about. She does a lot of holding as they create a virtual winter wonderland in the Hotchner living room. Or a Christmas shop anyway.

Jack's got surprisingly good taste for a seven-year-old. He's very careful and meticulous about going overboard on the garlands or the window stickies Emily's never seen before. They're vinyl and stick quite effectively to the cold glass. She can do that one-handed, and she's pretty good at keeping her balance on a chair while she and Hotch hang things from the windows, the walls, the ceilings.

They eat a late lunch with laughter and then Jack's dragging her to the couch and Rudolph's playing on the screen and though she hates the movie – one of the most overdone things, she thinks – she likes the way Jack curls against her good side as Hotch supports her other until his son passes out.

And Hotch doesn't let the moment just go.

"He asked if you'd stay for Christmas."

It does startle her. She knows they're moving forward, moving towards something that could be so great and she knows she's getting to the point where she can feel ready. Admitting Doyle's dead without prompting is an important first step, so is the fact that it's not Doyle she saw in her nightmares last night.

"That's a while away," she says quietly. She can feel that this is  _it_. This is the moment where she has to decide how ready she is, if she has to ask for more time.

He runs a hand down her arm to her elbow, the one encased in the sling and she bites down hard on the responding shiver. If this is just anticipation of what they can be, what the hell is it going to be like when there's  _knowledge_? "I think it's a good idea."

Her head turns slowly, away from Rudolph and towards him, seeing the intent there. "I don't know."

"You've got twenty-four days to think about it."

And she knows,  _knows_  he's not just talking about Christmas. This time, the shiver comes because she's not paying attention. He's telling her she's got twenty-four days, and he's going to be doing everything in his power to convince her before then. The idea thrills her, in both good and bad ways as heat wars with fear in her stomach.

He's put a time limit on this.

He's done waiting.

He thinks she's ready.

And he's thrown down the gauntlet.

Is it bad that she finds it hot?

"Twenty-four days," she whispers.

Then, says the confident part of her, the romantic part that believes in fate and karma, she'll be his.


	2. December 2, 2011

The last thing Aaron expects when his phone rings in the morning is Emily on the ID. "What happened?"

"Nothing," she says with a little bit of a laugh and he's glad she can laugh about it. He's not quite sure he's there yet. "Well, nothing's wrong. Everything's still working just fine. Power down, Hotch."

He's also glad for the playfulness in her voice. He hasn't scared her off by essentially telling her she's got until Christmas Day to make a decision about them. She's teasing and for the first time in a while, Aaron can admit it feels good. "You don't need to go to the hospital?"

"Mm, mm," she says, her tone implying the negative answer to his question. "I was hoping you could do me a favour though."

He figures it's to come open a jar or something. She is only a couple of blocks away and he's about to head in. He could make a stop….

He kind of wants to make a stop.

"I want to go into the BAU."

"You're on med leave," he replies promptly. No. No BAU for her. She has a tendency to overdo it and he won't be the one to put her into a situation where that's a possibility. He won't be an enabler for her.

"So? Hotch, I can't sit around the house all day. I'll go crazy. And I can't do anything because I don't have the use of both arms."

"And you think it'll be better at the BAU?" There's so much skepticism in his voice it's kind of incredible. But there are so many opportunities at the BAU for her to come out worse than when she went in. And she's healing, which means rest and there's no way she's going to be able to find that at the Bureau. Home is the safest place for her.

Or so he's set on believing.

What he doesn't know, is there's a trump card. "Aaron, I need to go in. For the team."

First name and the team. This really is important to her. And he can feel himself giving in because there's a warmth in his stomach that wasn't there before. It's not the steel of Agent Hotchner anymore and he allows himself a split second of reflection on how dangerous that is totally going to be. Still. "I'm listening."

Make your case, Counselor.

"I was just stabbed," she says. There's no emotion to the tone and Aaron knows that she's found her center to deal with it. Or she knows, sees and understands that there is worse. There's been worse. "We both know this is going to bring up memories we all thought were buried away and, really, I just don't want to deal with constant phone calls all day under the pretense of a case just to check on me. From any of you."

Yeah, he was going to do it too. But that's because she's Emily and he has a claim now. A claim. It makes him feel good.

"We both know I can't drive myself in, but I owe it to them to show them that this is nothing like Doyle. To prove it." There's a pause. "And I haven't seen Penelope since we landed."

Oh. That's going to be a problem. He knows what the tech is like when she's got the bit between her teeth and he's not sure that's something he's really ready to handle today. He's still riding a high on Emily's agreement to a twenty-four day grace period, so his brain's a little fuzzier than it should be.

"We both know it's the best solution to everything."

It is, damn her. She's had this prepared. "I'll be by in fifteen minutes."

. . . . .

The start the day, as they do most others, in the conference room and Aaron is both surprised and a little peeved when he feels the tension level in the room drop as Emily steps in. Okay, sure, they watched Reid pretty closely after Henkle. And they definitely kept a closer eye on Dave a couple of weeks ago when he returned after Carolyn's suicide. Aaron himself lived under a hell of a microscope during the days of Foyet, but this is just ridiculous. And it's breaking into their ability to do their jobs.

But then there's a squeal and an 'oomph' and Aaron finds himself catching Emily as Garcia's hug propels her backwards. The blond has enough sense to offer an embarrassed smile.

"Sorry Hotch."

He rights Emily and the look she shoots him all but screams 'I told you so'. He rolls his own in response. No reason to encourage her. He still doesn't like the fact that she's managed to essentially guilt trip him into bringing her. Doesn't she know it's damn difficult to say no to her when she's  _not_  injured?

"Now that we've assured ourselves Emily's okay," he begins, even as he pulls out Emily's chair. No chances, that's his new motto. Not with her. "Can we get down to business?"

It's an interesting morning briefing.

Dave is okay. Not a shock since the man had figured out Emily was alive before she set foot back in DC. He's also sitting beside her, so his awareness is more fixed. Derek glances over every once in a while. Guilt makes him do it, because Aaron made sure he and Emily talked by forcing Derek to drive her back to the hotel. Reid and JJ are a little more vulnerable about the whole thing.

Reid glances her way every couple of seconds, like she's going to up and disappear again. Like this could have killed her. Aaron's not immune to thoughts like those, but he's been shoving them down into a heavy chest never to be opened again. She's here, he has to keep telling himself, and in one, if damaged, piece. Reid hasn't hit that point yet. He can't say that to himself and make himself believe it. Emily knows this. Aaron can tell by the way she keeps shifting in her chair, as if she can't find a comfortable decision.

JJ is a little more subtle about it. Then again, she's a little more subtle as a default setting. She still glances at Emily, but she doesn't jump like Reid every time Emily pitches in. It's their usual brainstorm session around the cases on their desks, so they all take the time to pick things apart. And Aaron notices that every time JJ speaks Emily face is the last one she rests on.

"Before we go," Emily says just as they're all moving to stand. Her voice is strong and sure, so he doesn't feel indignation at the authority in her tone. "I'm fine. I'm on painkillers so I don't feel it, I'm still wearing the sling so it stays immobile, but there's no infection and I'm keeping the wound clean. In six weeks, I'll be back full duty."

The tension drops another degree, but Aaron notices the way Penelope, JJ and Emily linger. Oh God. A pow-wow. He escapes, sharing a look and a smirk with Dave as he does. Sure, he wants to keep a very close eye on Emily, but he knows better than to get in the middle of girl talk.

Plus, he's got consults to do anyway.

. . . . .

"You're really okay?"

JJ's the one to come out and say it as Penelope settles in her chair again. She's been up and down over the course of the meeting, throwing up pictures and stats that contribute to all of the cases. Emily offers them both a wide smile.

"Totally fine. Honestly. The doctor said it'll heal without problem if I can keep it clean and immobile. I'll have to do some rehab for the shoulder, but it's nothing any of us haven't faced before."

Routine job accident. Not life-threatening injury. She has to make them see this.

Penelope's chuckle is more awkward than amused. "You need to stop jumping in front of pointy objects."

Emily's laugh is more joyful. How can she not be? She woke up with the warmth of knowledge in her chest and now she's here with her best friends, in the office space that doubles as a home. She feels better than she has since the whole Doyle fiasco started ten months ago or so. She feels like she isn't letting the UNSUBs win, like she knows where she fits again.

And where she's going to fit.

Twenty-four days.

She's going to take all twenty-four too. There's a seven-year-old involved and as much as Emily may want the kid's father, she doesn't want to risk damaging Jack because she's not careful, not mostly sure. She's got an appointment on Monday with Garrett to sort everything out. Ish. Really it's the post-injury mental evaluation she'd like to get out of the way. She'll have to do another one before she comes back but-

"You live in a happy little fantasy world there, Wonder Woman."

Emily smiles, because Penelope's only teasing, but there's a note of curiosity in the tech's voice and painted all over JJ's face that she can't help but give in to.

"Hotch threw down the gauntlet last night."

JJ leans forward in her chair as Penelope's jaw drops. "Really?"

Emily nods, can't help the happy smile from blossoming over her face. She's had a good week, despite the stab wound. She's been the one to remind them Doyle's dead. Nightmares around her two stabbings in the last year have yet to surface, and Hotch has declared his intentions. Plus, she got to play with Jack last night.

Penelope collects herself with a snort of amusement. "About time," she says. "You've been back almost a year."

But all three of them remember their outing only a couple of weeks ago where Emily admitted she wasn't sure she'd ever be ready for a relationship with the Unit Chief. They all exchange a look over it, about the fact they won't talk about how careful Emily has to be. It's only Day One - or is it Day Two? – and there are plenty of days to go before Happily Ever After becomes any sort of reality.

But then JJ speaks, quietly. "I don't think he's going to let you go."

It is, Emily realizes as her heart lifts, exactly what she needs to hear. She knows Hotch, well. She knows he doesn't back down and unlike the will-they-won't-they secret crush, they're both intensely aware that it's just a matter of time. It's about putting Emily back together again and Emily knows the only reason he's said anything is because he thinks she's ready to hear it.

It does help. The knowledge that he's going to fight when she pulls away is solid in her head. But she's also not sure it's enough. She's out of her seat before JJ, Penelope, even Emily herself knows what's happening. She knocks tentatively on Hotch's door, waiting for the 'enter' before she pushes it open.

"Everything okay?" Worry first. Glance to her arm.

"Fine," she says shortly. She needs to get this out before she forgets or chickens out. Because suddenly, it's all there in front of her, and it is more than a little bit terrifying. She could lose her heart in this, and she knows all-too-well that getting it back is a fight in itself. She closes the door and he sits up straighter.

"You gave me twenty-four days," she says, knowing they're in the office and she has to be  _very_ careful of how she words her request.

"I did," he replies just as wary.

She steps forward, towards his desk, her eyes fixed on him. She stops when her thighs brush the edge. "Aaron," she says quietly. "I need you to promise me something then."

She sees the 'anything' on the tip of his tongue, but he's not an overeager child. "I'm listening."

"Promise you'll fight me."

He arches an eyebrow, but there's a spark in his eyes, one of dominance and assured aggressiveness.

"If I pull away, if I try and find a way out, to save you and Jack, you fight me." She needs to know that he'll keep pushing because she knows herself and the minute she feels like she's shattering she's going to yank herself away.

And if there's anyone in the world that can make her break, right now, it's Hotch.

"I waited six months for you to come back to DC," he points out, lowering his voice and leaning towards her. "Four more before you admitted yourself that Doyle was dead, that he couldn't hurt us."

Us means the team, but she gets it.

"Ten months, Emily," he points out. "Do you think I'm going to just let you walk away?"

It's  _exactly_  what she needs to hear, exactly what she  _wants_ to hear. She smiles and leans in. They're a breath apart and Emily's kind of glad his blinds are closed. "Say it."

She likes this level of teasing. It's popped up almost out of nowhere, but she likes the warm feeling in the pit of her stomach, the tingle of awareness over her skin. She's drawn to him, wants to crawl over the damn desk but her injured shoulder and the knowledge that they're in the office for Pete's sake stops her. Just barely.

"I will fight you."

There's enough steel under his words to make her shiver pleasantly. She smiles, but he's not done.

"Every step, every time you try to pull away."

God, she'd known this, known he'd be intense, determined, but how the hell was she supposed to anticipate her own reaction?

She's grinning now. "Good."


	3. December 3, 2011

Emily's humming to herself as the phone rings and she reaches for it. She's attempted to do what she can to straighten her apartment with a useless arm and it's going okay. Slow, but okay. "'Lo?"

"I can't get him down."

She responds immediately to the need in Hotch's voice, the tinge of desperation. It's been  _forever_  since she heard that tone from him. Not since Haley and Foyet and the weeks following as the Hotchners tried to recover. "Jack?"

"He won't go down," Hotch says again. "He didn't sleep last night Emily, at all. He had nightmares, refused. I've tried all of the old tricks-"

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit,  _shit_.

Naturally, she blames herself. Jack was fine until he knew she'd gotten hurt, until he'd seen her with the sling. He hasn't seen the stitches or the scar, Emily and Hotch have seen to that, but he would be aware of how little she could do. "Are they about Foyet?"

"And you."

Yeah, she expected that, but it doesn't soften the sting at all. "Shit."

His sigh is loud over the phone. "Yeah."

"Okay. I'm coming over. I'll be… twenty minutes."

"I think the phone-"

"Aaron." And yeah, she gets a thrill from the fact that his mouth shuts almost instantly. She can play this game too and a mite better than him. He's been wrapped around her finger much longer than she's been wrapped around his. "I'm straightening my apartment."

"You shouldn't be."

It makes her smile because she can hear the frown in his voice. "I had to do something. So I'll come by, we'll pop a movie in, he'll be out in fifteen minutes."

She shouldn't have to. They both know it. And she knows that they both feel guilty. She wants Doyle to just  _go_. She's sick of him being the reason for all of the drama, the sadness the difficulties. They all have their nemesis and maybe Doyle is hers, but she hates that he's turned into the team's nemesis too. That shouldn't happen. Not to them. Not to the team that works so hard, does what they do so well, and without levels of casualties that would normally be unacceptable. They may skirt the line every once in a while, but crossing it is never on their radar. They'd never condone it.

Most of the time.

She knows the often forget those in the peripheral too. Will, Kevin, Jack, Henry… Those are the people that get pushed aside while they're superheroes. Sometimes they forget just how affected each one of them can be by the work they do, the things they see.

She sighs as she slips into her coat. This is a prime example.

Hotch had to have seen this coming. She herself isn't as surprised as maybe the situation warrants. She can't be. Not like this. Jack's lost his mother to a bad man, then Emily, the next person in like as a maternal figure. Jessica mothers him, yes, but Emily and Jack have a bond.

Huh. Maybe she should have seen this Hotch thing sooner. The man is beyond territorial about his son.

As he should be, Emily thinks. Jack is precious, unique and never in a million years would she have believed such a child exists. Making friends with a bully to try and make him stop? Most kids would burrow into a hole and hide, but not Jack. She laughs to herself as she skips down the steps of her new apartment building. It's such a thrill to be part of his life, to see him grow.

It doesn't hurt that he's Hotch's kid.

Emily shivers at the thought. She knows this is a chance she shouldn't have. She should have died on that table, with the injuries she sustained. It's incredible that she did survive and even more incredible that as broken, damaged, as she is, Hotch is hell bent on having her. She would've jumped him already if she didn't think it would be a terrible idea.

Being a profiler is a strength and a weakness. She'd known that going into the BAU. Now, it seems to come back with a vengeance. She doesn't want to just sleep with him because her emotions aren't in the right place. Hotch isn't a man to screw around with. He deserves better than that, and despite the fact that she knows she's doing better, she also believes he deserves better than she can give right now. But twenty-four days lets her work on it, work on breaking down the wall, and giving everything she wants to give.

Admittedly, Christmas is just the right season for it.

Emily's always loved Christmas. It was the one consistency through her childhood, the one time she and her mother put aside whatever annual grievances popped up for a nice, civilized dinner and a quiet gift-opening. It's so rarely on Christmas Day these days, because Emily's elected to work most of them to take the place of those with families, but it's as much a part of Christmas to her as the carols and the trees. Her defenses are already automatically down around this season and she hopes it will make letting him in just a little bit easier.

She hits his speed dial just as she's climbing to his door, waving at the doorman who comes in before Hotch can hit the buzzer. He's open and at the door the minute he sees her and he shocks her when he leans down and brushes a gentle kiss against her lips.

As if he's done it a thousand times.

Except he hasn't. They've kissed once. So Emily's a bit stunned and doesn't follow him inside. She shakes her head when he calls her name, looking at her in confusion.

"Um…. Hello to you too?"

It takes him a minute, but then he blushes such an un-Hotch-like shade of pink that Emily actually laughs. Hard. Moments like these help her see that he's so right for her. He's not always strong and stoic. Sometimes, he's just as domestic as the rest of them, just as vulnerable, in need of just as much love.

Her laughter draws the attention of Little Hotch, who pokes his head out of his room.

"Em'ly!"

"Hello, Energizer Bunny," she says sweetly, crouching down as he scampers out of his room.

"Em'ly, I don't know what that means."

She laughs, glad to see some of Hotch's anxiety fade. She wonders if maybe he needed her here as much as Jack did. He's not the type to admit it, but she can't exactly say she'd be surprised either.

"Means you just keep going, and going, and going…."

"But I'm not sleepy!"

The fact that he was whining about it went directly against his protestation. Still, she just laughs. She knows better than to contradict him at this point. "I know, but I am and I want to watch a movie."

"Me too!"

He scampers to the living room, racing to the cupboard. She shoots a triumphant grin at Hotch. He shakes his head and there's a bit of insecurity there. She steps closer, unable to help herself. She's testing, both of them.

"I tried that," he says, focusing on her. His fingers twitch and she smiles because, to her, it's obvious he wants to reach for her. "He threw a fit."

"Magic fingers," she answers, pushing them further by allowing said fingers on her uninjured hand to trail up his arm.

He reaches out, grasps the fingers, places a kiss to her palm that makes the air back up in her lungs. He can play this game with her, he knows it, but it's a  _terrible_  idea. "Emily."

 _Oh my God,_  she thinks to herself,  _we're going to burn each other alive._

"Right," she says, because her thought process isn't helping. Then she clears her throat as she steps back. She glances to Jack, glad to see that he hasn't glanced over. But he doesn't let go of her hand. She tilts her head.

"You just need to say the word," he tells her, and neither of them are under any illusion of what he's talking about. It's her decision, her choice and though he's willing to push, he's not going to tip her over the edge. She has to jump.

She's not ready to jump.

And until she is, they can't keep playing this game. One of them is going to push too far and they're going to do something they're going to regret. She's going to regret. And he's going to regret it because it's not what they want it to be. It won't be perfect, neither of them are stupid enough to believe that, but unless they can give it a real try, with real emotions, and fears that are predicated on the seriousness they can have, everything else will be a regret.

He's done with regrets.

So is she.

They have to move forward together.

"Got it!"

Jack breaks the spell entirely, not that either of them are truly upset about it. Someone needed to. He scampers back over, holds  _Toy Story_  aloft. Emily glances at Hotch and they share a look of utter exasperation. They should have known.

But it isn't about either of them. Jack's the one that needs sleep, and what better way to get him to take an n-a-p than with something he's seen a dozen times or more? So Emily smiles at Jack, lets him drag her by her uninjured hand to the couch. The seven-year-old deals with the DVD while Emily gets comfortable, pressing play before he heads back to the couch. He takes Emily's free side while Hotch sits a little further away on her injured side. It wouldn't do either of them any good if he sat much closer. Hell, it doesn't really help her as it is. Her body's still humming with awareness.

She bites her lip against any discomfort as Jack gets comfortable during the credits, and, true to form, he's out before Woody and Buzz can get lost. Her hand strokes through his hair as he sleeps. She really isn't watching the movie.

"It's like Declan," she says softly, eventually. "He didn't sleep for the first month after his father's death."

She knows Hotch remembers it. He remembers answering her phone at a stupid hour of the morning with the teenager on the other end of the phone. She also knows he's already considered this, considered it all. It's his personality style.

"Losing you, really losing you, would be a blow to us all."

She offers him a tight smile. She hates that Jack is suffering. Because he is absolutely out cold against her thigh. She could have convinced him to do anything that afternoon because all he wants is reassurance that she isn't going to disappear again.

That he isn't going to be left behind.

She blows out a heavy breath. "I'm here," she whispers. "Right here."

She feels his hand against her hair, looks along the arm stretched across the space between them, sees a turmoil in his eyes she hates for inadvertently putting there.

"He'll get better."

Says the father who not an hour ago was in a panic over it all.

Emily chews her lip as she thinks. "Aaron?"

"Emily."

"I think… I think I'd like to celebrate Christmas with you and Jack."

His breath catches, actually  _catches_ , and his fingers tighten reflexively for a split second. "I don't think now's the right time-"

But she's shaking her head. "That's not the decision I'm making," she says. "I just… Christmas is a time for people right? People we care about? So maybe… maybe doing Christmas things, sharing traditions, will help Jack."

When she looks up, there's such strong emotion in his face that she has to look away again. But he catches her chin, can't help but do it, but turn her face to his. He lays his lips on hers, the pressure not quite bruising but not feather light either.

"You have  _got_  to stop doing that," she breathes when he releases her. If he keeps doing that, kissing her like that, she's not going to be able to make the decision in the frame of mind he wants her to. In the frame of mind she wants to.

He laughs lowly. "I think we can suffer through a few extra hours of your company."

But his eyes are shining and the grin that stretches across her face isn't conveying 'a few extra hours', but 'as much free time as she can'.

She's going to spend Christmas with the Hotchners.

She's going to convince Jack that she's not going anywhere.

She's going to move forward.


	4. December 4, 2011

Aaron wakes the next morning to a quiet house and lets out a sigh of relief.

Jack has slept through the night.

On the heels though, comes another: Emily put him down.

The second churns his gut a little. Not that he doesn't absolutely adore how well Jack and Emily get along, it's just that Jack is  _his_  son. As the dad, isn't he supposed to be able to cure his son's issues, comfort him when he's having a rough time? But it wasn't Aaron who put Jack to bed last night, it was Emily, and it took her three bedtime stories to do it.

Intellectually, he understands. Jack's responding, rather viscerally, to the fact that Emily's bee hurt. Again. It means nightmares, fears, worries, anxiety, the whole thing. Even on an emotional level Aaron understands his son's issues. But on a parental, paternal level, it sucks. And that is legitimately the only word for it. Plus, he knows that kind of stuff grates on Emily now, wears her down just a little bit every time someone reacts to her injury. The guilt sprouts up, eats at her strength and that's the part that he hates.

That, and the fact that he couldn't calm his son down.

Because psychologically, he knows Jack only slept through the night because Emily was there with him. He didn't have to worry that she would disappear.

She didn't stay the night though.

They'd both agreed it was for the best. It had been a hard afternoon, and even harder evening. It's the worst push and pull because Aaron knows what he wants. Hell, he knows what Emily wants, the issue is that there's so much between them yet. She's not completely sure of herself in a relationship and he's not insane enough to think he's much better. The only difference is that he didn't put his entire personal support structure in the line of fire of an ideological arms dealer hell bent on killing the person responsible for hiding his son.

It's not that he doesn't know how she feels. He definitely does. He put more than that on the line when Foyet was hunting him. He put his damn job on the line more than once, his life too, because for a while there he didn't see what there was to live for. He knows now that it's a terrible existence. Emily helped him see that.

Now he hopes he's helping her.

He wants her to see that he can be her rock, the same way she was his. He knows they've had cases that have dredged up terrible memories for her. He remembers her, dripping wet as she came to his office, asking for a favour. He remembers her looking like death warmed over as she  _screamed_  at him for telling her there was nothing they could do. He also remembers the tension of having mother and daughter in the same bullpen just months after she joined the unit. He remembers the weeks leading up to Doyle.

So it's his turn now, to help her recover who she is and believe in it. It's his turn to push, to prod, to make her open up.

To fight her.

To fight for her.

He'll do all of that and more if it means she'll be there with him. Not just for Christmas, but for the days, months, years following. A relationship with her will be his first serious one since Haley, but he's had enough time to know that he's ready. He can love Haley for what she was, but he knows now that he can love Emily for what she  _is_.

He climbs out of bed to start the day, unsurprised to find Jack curled around his stuffed dragon, Fred. Aaron doesn't generally ask where his son gets his names from. "Morning Buddy."

"Hi Daddy. Where's Em'ly."

"In her apartment," Aaron answers, adding the gentlest underlay of steel. His son  _will_  believe him. "Probably still asleep."

"Can she come play today?"

"I don't know," Aaron admits. Then he considers his son. "Hey Jack, remember we talked about having Emily over for Christmas?"

The little boy's eyes light up. "Yeah!"

Aaron grins back. He can't help it. "She says she would like that very much."

His eyes go round. Aaron barely resists the urge to chuckle. His son's head-over-heels for Emily Prentiss. Aaron can't blame him. He's pretty gone over the woman too. "Really?"

"She told me so."

"Daddy!" There's an air of reverence to Jack's voice, awe and wonder. Then comes the excitement. "We're gonna do so much stuff! Tree huntin', and we gotta get the new ormament for the tree and cookies and crafts and-"

"Whoa," Aaron says, laughing when Jack takes the opportunity to take a breath. "We have to remember she's still hurt. Some of those things we should probably wait to do until she's feeling better."

Jack nods sagely, but the excitement is still in his eyes. "We gotta find her the bestest present  _ever_."

They really do because the fact that the  _idea_  of Emily spending Christmas with them makes his son light up so completely makes him think that maybe he's already got his.

. . . . .

Is it bad that she  _really_  wants to call him?

It's Sunday morning, for Pete's sake and he didn't drive her home – he refused to let her walk that late – until well after eleven. It's been a total of nine hours since she's seen a Hotchner and she's going into withdrawal.

As if she needs a clue as to how gone over them she is.

Still, there's a surprising amount of things that throw up obstacles. Fundamentally, she's not sure she really deserves this kind of happiness. She aborted a child after a stupid mistake at fifteen. That mistake sent her best friend spiraling into drugs, into guilt that ate him alive, then burned him alive. She took another child away from a loving parent ten years ago (because Ian was a psychopath, but he was a terrific father). Said loving parent then, hell bent on revenge, threatened everyone she knew, everyone she loved.

There is a part of her that can freely say loving her is a curse.

That doesn't mean she doesn't want to be loved. Of course she does. Everybody wants a sense of belonging, people whom they know care. She's just not at a point where she can say she deserves it. No one deserves to go through loss, to experience fear and danger because they're associated with her. As illogical as it is, the idea is stuck and it's scar tissue the rest of her personality has built itself on.

She's been trying for years to break it down, but the thing, she's learned, with scar tissue is that it's hard, protective. It's difficult to break down, to force aside. She doesn't open up easily to begin with and now she has to shove down all of her fears, her walls, her instincts to try and build something she's already sure is going to be intense and _phenomenal_.

But it'll also probably be It.

She can't afford to screw up It. It doesn't come along often, and there's still debate as to whether it comes along more than once in a lifetime. She needs to know she can be ready. She knows she's taken some good first steps and she hadn't been lying when she'd told Hotch that she wants to spend Christmas with them. It's the role she's going to play in that celebration that's still up in the air.

And that, she knows, will come in time. She also knows she doesn't want to make Hotch wait forever. That's unfair to both of them. It's hard to puzzle her way through this knowing that they have the emotions to start this. Sure, they're spurred by fear, by second chances, by trying to hang on with both hands and never let go, but they're still there. She still wants him. He still wants her. The unique part of it is that for the last four months, neither of them has been particularly shy in showing it.

So now what?

Now, she has to take everything in stride, she thinks. She has to let herself believe that a relationship with Hotch is a possibility, that wanting her doesn't make him a masochistic idiot. Doyle's dead, and everything else from her past comes from self-esteem issues she's not sure she's ever quite shaken. That doesn't, for a second, mean that she can't be loved. Jack adores her, and she truly believes that children have a sense of those things. His love is the epitome of unconditional and she's starting to think that every person in the world should have an innocent child in their lives.

For now though, she's got an appointment with Garrett tomorrow – both because of the injury and the necessary approval paperwork – and she knows now that Doyle isn't haunting her as often as he used to. He's gone, she believes it, and she recognizes it as a first step the same way Hotch does.

Between Garrett and Hotch  _and_  Jack, she figures she can't lose.

She can't hide for long.

Instead of scaring her, it thrills her. She can't help thinking that Christmas this year is going to be unlike any other.


	5. December 5, 2011

Emily likes Garrett Brown's office. The receptionist is a pretty forty-something woman that treats each one of Garrett's patients like they're regular people. There's never any pity on her face or judgment about the fact that they're in the waiting room to talk to a psychiatrist. Emily always takes a few minutes to chat with her after she's checked in.

She's got three kids, a dog, and a husband that owns a fashion conglomerate. She's always wearing something unique, something likely from her husband's company. She and Emily exchange stories of Jack and her children before Garrett's door opens. He comes out, arms open and Emily smiles as she accepts the hug.

There's a reason Emily chose Garrett when she needed to see someone after Doyle.

They go way back. Further than way back. High school, then they both ended up at Yale and if they hadn't been such solid friends, Emily's pretty sure they would have dated. He's licensed by a number of Washington agencies, so when she came back from her mission with INTERPOL, Garrett had been the only person she'd been willing to talk to. He's still her go-to guy when she needs to see a therapist. He doesn't make her feel like she's screwed up, he just makes her feel like she's human.

"How are you?" he asks as he guides her into his office. His eyes are on her shoulder and she offers him an exasperated roll of her eyes.

"It's a superficial wound," she tells him. "UNSUB caught Derek and I off guard. Eight stitches. Not even an overnight stay."

Garrett knows who Derek is. He feels a little bit like he knows the whole team inside out and backwards with how often Emily talks of each of them. "He's okay?"

Emily shrugs. "He's coping."

"You all are," he says, nodding sagely as he takes a seat. Emily settles in across from him, just as the ritual demands.

"It's… brought up memories." Emily knows that won't faze Garrett. It's not shocking to her that her stabbing's brought up a lot of darkness they'd hoped had been pushed to the past. "Even Jack's a little on edge."

"Are you surprised?"

"No," Emily says on a snort of laughter. "He's lost a lot of people. His father works a dangerous job. I'd probably be more worried if he  _hadn't_  started having nightmares."

"How much did his father tell him? About your altercation with Ian Doyle?"

Emily doesn't even shiver at the name anymore. It makes them both happy. Inordinately so. "I'm not sure," she reveals. She's told Garrett that Hotch mentioned she was gone, but even Hotch hasn't told her what that means. "I just don't want them looking at this as if it's going to make me disappear."

It's easy to talk to Garrett, so half of the walls she has built around her for the Bureau don't exist in this masculine office. He listens, pays attention, doesn't judge and never has. He knows all about her abortion, about Matthew and John, about Doyle and Declan. He knows about her time in Paris, her fight to get back to the States, her ups and downs with her mother, with the team…

"Is it?"

"No," she says without thinking. It doesn't require thought. As if she'd go anywhere now. "But Spencer can't stop looking at it. When I was in the BAU on Friday he kept looking up, checking to see if I was still there. I don't know how to help him."

"It's not your job to help him, Em," Garrett replies carefully. "It's his job to seek out what he needs."

"It's just… he's  _Spencer_." It never takes her long to get emotional in Garrett's office.

"Exactly. He's a twenty-something former addict with a schizophrenic mother. He has his own coping mechanisms, Emily. You can't coddle him."

She wants to frown at Garrett, to tell him he's being mean, but it's so incredibly childish that she finds herself looking away and biting her lip instead. She knows it's not that simple. She understands that she can't just tell him he doesn't know what he's talking about because he's not there, day in and day out.

"Derek feels responsible."

"Of course he does. That's also normal."

"It's only normal because of Doyle," she snaps, losing hold on a slice of her temper. She reigns it in quickly, unsurprised to see Garrett's bland face. He knows how she works.

"Because he was there."

"Because he almost watched me bleed out on a dirty concrete floor of a Boston warehouse," she responds wearily. Garrett makes her voice the whole sentence. There's no pronouns in his office. He's never let her use pronouns while struggling through an issue.

He leans forward, because he knows what's coming next. "You were a young, malleable woman when you took on the Doyle case, Emily. Don't you dare let that shadow how far you've come, what you've accomplished."

Sometimes she forgets that as much as he is her therapist, he's also her friend. So she closes her eyes, sucks in a breath. "Okay, so it's Doyle's fault. Or Carp's." She trusts Garrett to catch on. "I hate that they're taking it on themselves."

"They're going to do that," Garrett tells her unnecessarily. "It's that kind of a reaction. You're that kind of people."

She wrinkles her nose and he chuckles. The unsaid  _it sucks_  hangs between them.

"How is Agent Hotchner?"

It makes her mouth twitch, twist into a smirk. "You can call him Aaron, Gary."

"Do you?"

"More now. When we're off the clock."

He nods. Garrett's never made notes on his patients. Somehow it's all in his head. He types it all up later, she knows, but he works best when he can focus on what's being said before writing it all down. She likes it. It's less distracting than having someone sit across from her and take notes.

"You're making steps forward."

She sighs. "It doesn't feel like it some days. With Jack's nightmares and the stabbing… I feel like I'm never going to feel like I'm in a place where starting a relationship is a good idea. And I know," she barrels on when Garrett opens his mouth, "that it's going to take time, that it's all normal, that I have to trust in myself and just jump, but it's not that easy."

"I'm not going to tell you it is," Garrett admits, his voice low, soothing. "What I am going to tell you though is this: sometimes, a great leap forward first requires two steps back. And sometimes, all it requires is the will to jump."

Emily tilts her head to the side. The notion is already circulating, permeating, cementing itself in her thoughts. He'd known it would. "Who told you that?"

"Leah," Garrett admits sheepishly. His high school sweetheart and now his wife. Emily had always liked her.

"Smart." She pauses. "You think I should just… jump."

"Not necessarily," he leans back against the couch he always chooses. "I think you have to remind yourself that taking a couple of steps backwards to move forward isn't a terrible thing. Sometimes going back allows you to dredge up memories and feelings you've already buried. And I don't think you and I need to have the conversation about the threat buried feelings are."

Of course they don't. Emily's a champ at hiding her feelings and knows first hand how volatile that can be. Sure, she does it every time she steps onto a crime scene but she prefers to call that compartmentalizing. The emotions don't permeate the steel wall of her brain to poison the rest of her.

Except Doyle.

She swears at herself as she lets out a breath. "Why does it keep coming back to Ian?"

And then Garrett's leaning forward again. Emily likes to call it his psychologist pose. "Ian was a big part of your life," he reminds her unnecessarily. "Despite the fact that you've hated him for a decade, you did love him once."

"Lauren Reynolds loved him."

"Emily."

It's not that simple. That's what he's trying to tell her. Emily's never been good at allowing different aspects of her life to intermingle. Personal stays personal, professional stays professional. Lauren Reynolds stays separate from Emily Prentiss. But that's only on the face. Underneath it's all twisted together. Lauren warps into Emily and she can't find which way is up again.

She feels a bit like she just returned from the INTERPOL mission a decade ago.

That had been something else entirely. It had been two weeks of intensive therapy INTERPOL and the CIA called 'debriefing'. Emily had to find herself again in the rubble of Lauren and Doyle and Declan.

"It's not inhuman to love a man like Ian Doyle, Emily."

Garrett's voice brings her back from those memories. He reaches out for her hand, one of the few things and odd moments where he's her friend and not her therapist.

"It doesn't mean you're not capable of love again. It doesn't mean you shouldn't accept it when it's freely given."

Freely given.

Like Jack, who has absolutely no idea of the hurt that's out there. Like Henry, who clings to her leg whenever she makes it over to JJ's. Like Penelope, who can't help but love with her whole heart.

And to them, she's always been just Emily.

"I don't want to hurt them."

"Them who?"

"Jack. Aaron." She pauses. "He's given me until Christmas Day to make a decision."

"On?"

"Whether we move forward together or go our separate ways." Insecurities surface like demons and she knows they're all in her eyes when she looks up at Garrett. "I don't know what to do."

"I don't think you're supposed to," Garrett admits. "Love is dangerous, Em. It hurts, But I don't know what I'd do without Leah. I don't want to think about what my life would be like."

"That's-"

"It's not," he cuts her off. "It's no different than you loving Aaron, Emily, because you, despite everything you've been through, are the type of person who gives her heart and soul to a relationship. You give no less than everything and you expect it in return.  _And you deserve to_. There is nothing in your life that is truly abhorrent enough for someone to decide you are not worthy of love."

Emily's no longer sure if this is her friend or her therapist. The words say therapist. The passion says friend. She swallows thickly.

"Aaron doesn't strike me as the type of person who makes decisions on a whim. He strikes me as a man who knows what he wants and has no problem going after it. I know that's you, Emily Prentiss. Nothing has ever stopped you before."

They segue from there. He makes her tell him, step by step, what happened in her stabbing so he can authorize her back to work. Then he asks her to tell him about Jack, about the last couple of days, about staying with the Hotchners for Christmas.

When she leaves she's drained, but that's not a surprise. She just wants to go home and sleep for a week, but when she checks her phone and sees three missed calls from Hotch she gets a little antsy.

"Everything's fine," he tells her when he picks up the phone.

"I was with Garrett," she replies, crossing the street and hitting the remote for her car. She always turns her phone off when she's in therapy.

"I figured. Hang on."

There's shuffling and she pulls the phone away from her ear to tug her door open because she knows what's coming next. Sure enough, she hears a muted 'Em'ly!' come through the phone as she climbs in. The kid could yell her eardrum off if she let him. "Good evening, Mr. Jack."

As Jack babbles on about Christmas and she waits for her car to warm, Garrett's words come back to her. Two steps back, eh?

She only hopes she'll find the courage and the will to take the bigger leap forward.


	6. December 6, 2011

He calls her Tuesday afternoon to say he's going to be in the office late and would she be able to watch Jack. As if her answer is going to be anything other than yes. She's been on the couch all day in that way she hates but with an injured shoulder can't help. She is never taking two working limbs for granted again.

She's also needed the day, really benefitted from it. Garrett's drains her for more than just the day. She always feels wrung out when she bares her soul and friend or not, Garrett refuses to let her hold things back. So as much as she hates lying on the couch like an invalid, she knows it was damn good for her.

It's not like she has to pack up a myriad of things and risk straining her shoulder either. Jack's got a room full of toys, a shelf full of DVDs and a bin full of crafts. She's not particularly worried about entertaining him. She sends Hotch a whole lot of mental sympathy though because for him, working late means meetings.

None of them envy Hotch for those meetings.

She's just about to walk up to Hotch's apartment when Jessica pulls into a parking space. She only knows it's Jessica because she hears Jack holler from the back seat. She smiles as he races up to her, but the smile dulls when she faces Haley's sister. They've only met once and she's more than a little nervous. But Jessica doesn't hate her on sight. Instead, the blond – so much like Haley – offers a small, frazzled smile.

"Emily, right?"

"Yes," is all Emily says in response. Jack's bouncing beside her, babbling and she presses a hand to his head. It's funny because he shuts up immediately, without a stern word.

Jessica's eyes dart to her injured hand and worry fills her vision. Emily's waving her away before she can ask. "We've done this before, we'll be fine." As if Hotch would leave Jack with her if he didn't have the utmost faith that they both weren't going to fall apart.

Jack looks unfazed so Jessica has no other option. Or maybe it's the realization that Hotch does have a woman in his life, a woman he's let into Jack's life too. Huh. Probably a heck of a mindfuck.

Just as Emily decides she won't begrudge the woman a little bit of hatred, Jessica smiles again. "Thank you."

Emily smiles back. "My pleasure."

Because with her, that's what Jack is. Sure, she's been around for a couple of tantrums and sure, she's never had to handle them herself, but Jack's generally a really good kid. She'll be fine looking after him for a few hours.

Jack yells and waves bye to his aunt without prompting and then they're both off to the apartment. Jack's nattering on and on about school as they climb to the third floor and Emily tries with all her might to keep up. He can talk fast. When she opens the door – emergency key, they all exchanged copies after Foyet got to Hotch – Jack streaks by and heads immediately to his bedroom. Emily's heart flies in her throat and she has to take a moment to lean back against the door and remind herself that it's safe. She jumps for the alarm when it starts beeping a warning and it's the second heart attack she's had in five minutes.

Jack's shockingly quiet when he comes wandering back out of the bedroom and she offers him a tilt of her head and a smile. She's draped her coat over a chair so it's not like she looks like she's leaving… "What's up, Jack Monster?"

"Daddy says you want to have Christmas with us."

Huh. It's true. She does. She assumed Hotch had already talked to his son. That kind of thing isn't an invitation shared lightly. "He and I talked about it. But I'll only agree if you say it's okay."

She's not going to step on any toes, especially little ones.

Jack's chewing the inside of his cheek. She has no idea where he picked that up from, but she likes that it's a tell. It's an easy one for her to see and she watches carefully, waiting patiently.

"Do you mean just the eve and the day?"

She smiles and crouches down. "Honey, what are you trying to get at?"

"Daddy and I do a lot of Christmas stuff a'fore Christmas."

She puts on her 'listening face'. Jack's seven and only talks baby when he's nervous about something. It's like a nervous tick. She also knows that sharing traditions is a big thing. And Jack takes time with his dad  _very_  seriously. "Uh huh."

"Are you going to do that stuff with us too?"

She pretends to think. She knows what the immediate answer is because she knows what she wants – it's getting there that's always been the problem – but she doesn't want Jack to think that she and his dad made a decision without him. Not something like this. "Would you like me to do that stuff with you?"

He nods in that little boy way where he looks a bit like a bobblehead. He looks down then, like he's embarrassed, and says, "When you're around, I don't miss my mommy so much."

She's going to cry. That's the end of it. Instead, she holds out her arm and Jack comes to bury his head in her shoulder. "Christmas makes you miss your mom, hey Buddy?"

His head bobs against her shoulder in a way she takes to mean the affirmative. She hugs him as tight as she can with one arm and the awkward position and sucks it up to hug tighter when she feels some little tears hit the skin of her neck. She's got to change the subject.

"What kind of things do you and your dad do at Christmas?"

He mumbles something into her neck and she jostles her shoulder gently to get him to look at her. Her eyes are quizzical, her smile light. He responds with a shy smile she hasn't seen from him since they first met. She chuckles, then wedges her fingers into his side.

"Cough it up," she says as he dissolves into riots of giggles. "What kind of traditions are we talking about?"

Three hours later, they've cracked open the craft bin and the kitchen table is absolutely  _covered_. There isn't an empty space on it between snowflakes and ornaments, construction paper and glue. But they've had a lot of fun passing the time together and Emily's glad she's been able to share this with Jack. He's creative, risky and she's had to remind him more than once that they have to be careful with things like scissors. But that's okay because she knows now that Jack's in too. She really is going to get  _both_ Hotchners for Christmas.

Big Hotchner returns just as Emily's pressing a small circle of red paper playfully to Jack's nose. He's brought food, she can smell it across the room, and her stomach gargles angrily. For the first time, she glances at her watch. "I didn't realize it was so late," she says as he makes his way into the kitchen. She offers him a smile the whole way, her body tingling as he bends down to press a lingering kiss to her cheek. He sets his laptop bag down in the process, just by her feet, then uses that free hand to ruffle Jack's hair as he straightens.

"We made Christmas stuff!"

"I see that," he says and Emily can tell he hasn't quite switched to dad-mode yet.

She takes the pizza box from his hand and offers another smile. "Go change." Then, to his back she calls, "I could have cooked."

"One handed?" he shoots back without missing a beat.

She smiles, winks at Jack, then sets about hunting down plates. "Hey, Jack, can you move the crafts to make room for three?" The pizza's too big to just be for two and she has no doubt he'd automatically include her as a thank you for watching his son. Not that watching is the right word. It's not possible to just watch Jack.

Hotch comes back in jeans and a t-shirt – and she's more used to it now because of the times she's stayed but it still makes her shiver – and takes in the table. "Arts and crafts, Buddy?"

Jack nods enthusiastically. "Em'ly's gonna stay for Christmas."

He arches an eyebrow at her because they've already talked about it. Of course she is. But that's not what Jack means and she cocks her head towards the boy, encouraging Hotch to ask.

"Did you ask her to stay?" They're both learning fast that 'stay for Christmas' can mean different things. Maybe participate is a better word for what she's gotten herself into.

Jack nods and grins. "We talked about it, Daddy. And she said she can do  _all_  the Christmas stuff."

Hotch chuckles, but there's a dark heat in his eyes she recognizes. She's not an idiot, she knows that it's going to be ridiculously domestic of them to be doing all things Christmas together. She's giving them every opportunity to try a dry run of this relationship thing, like a test relationship just for the holidays. "Dinner's up, go wash your hands."

Jack scampers away and Hotch turns to her with that heat burning. She wants to ask if she's made the right decision, but he's pressed her against the counter before she can blink, fusing his mouth to hers.

Oh, she's totally okay with this take-charge Hotch.

He's gone in the same blink, a few steps away in case Jack comes in, but his eyes are no less dark. Oh God. She drags in a shaky breath, clinging to the counter behind her.

"You're spending Christmas."

She nods, trying to find her voice again. "He asked. He, um…" But she knows she has to tell him and her eyes flutter closed. "He misses his mom. Says it's not so hard when I'm around."

His eyes are surprisingly aware when she cracks hers open again. "You're not taking her place," he says. "Haley loved with her whole heart. Unconditionally." They don't bother to acknowledge the 'condition' she put on her marriage. "You're not much different."

She blushes, smiles and he echoes it. Jack interrupts the moment, but he manages to lean in when Jack's settled at the table and she's dishing up her slices.

"You're a light in the world, Emily Prentiss."

She looks over in surprise, sees him smile and shrug and smiles herself. She's seen a lot of sides of Hotch, but maybe, just maybe, she likes this sweet domestic side the best.


	7. December 7, 2011

She bribes Hotch to take her into the BAU again on Thursday because there's nothing she can do around the house. She can't have another day of documentaries and DVDs or she's going to lose her mind. Instead, she looks over consults with Spencer, happy to have some time with him as much as to be doing something.

Half way through the morning, she stops mid-sentence because of the way he's looking at her. She cocks her head to the side with a small smile.

"I um… I'm glad you're okay."

She just watches, waiting. If there's one thing she's learned about Spencer it's that he does his own thing in his own time. He did, eventually, tell her about the migraines after all, and it's probably the most she's gotten from him in months. He fiddles with his fingers, eyes on the computer screen. He won't look at her.

"I… really missed you."

She smiles, she can't help it. "I missed you, too."

He's still not looking at her. "I don't like that… You don't have to protect us, Emily."

She doesn't say anything right away. She absorbs the words, turns them around in her head. "Because you're FBI agents?"

There must be something in her voice because he looks at her. "We're trained."

"I know." She makes a deliberate answer to gentle her voice. "I know, Reid. But…" She sighs. "You saw what I turned into to go after him." She's not proud of it. Nowhere close.

"You think we all don't have that in us?" he asks.

Oh, hell no. She knows they all have it in them. It takes a certain kind of darkness, whether agent or criminal, to be able to pull a trigger. It's not that she doesn't know they're capable, it's that it was her problem. She brought it on them. She was going to be the one to solve it.

"You had to come to us eventually," he says, surprising her. Because that was where her thought process was taking her. Despite the fact that she went rogue the first time, she eventually came back to them. She had to come back to them. She needs them. And looking at Spencer, how the poor young genius is still so torn over the whole thing… they need her too.

"I did," she agrees. "And now Doyle is gone. And he's not coming back."

Ever.

"It's…. a lot to take in."

"I know," she says. "And I know it's not easy for you."

He quirks a smile at her, all adorable. "I keep thinking it's a really good dream. That I'll wake up and we'll have actually buried you."

Emily blinks. That is  _entirely_ unexpected. In the middle of the day in the bullpen no less. She's actually stunned.

"And then, just when I was ready to accept…" He waves to her arm.

Ah. Just when he started to believe, she got stabbed.

"Reid," she begins. "I don't have to tell you that humans are mortal, that there's always a chance one of us isn't coming back."

He offers her a shrug. He knows this. They all know this. Then again, they all know that intellectual is so incredibly different from reality.

"Hey."

He looks up at her, eyes vulnerable. "I'm here," she tells him. "I'm not going anywhere. And if I can fight through Doyle, there's no way a stab wound is going to hold me back, got it?"

There's a smile at the edge of his mouth because this is the Emily he remembers. This is the Emily he's missed. But she's not quite done.

"And, if there ever comes a time where the same thing happens, where it looks like I'm not coming back, don't doubt, for an instant, that every ounce of me will fight.  _Every ounce_ , Reid." She offers him a smile of her own. "I have way too much to live for."

Reid's gaze darts up to Hotch's closed door and the smile he turns on her when his eyes lock on his again is teasing. "Like Hotch?"

Since she and Hotch haven't made a secret about their 'thing' she smiles and shakes her head. "Yeah, like Hotch," she replies, but she's grinning. It feels a bit like she and her little brother have just made up after a relationship-fatal fight.

If that's what this is, she's really glad she and Spencer have come out the other side.

. . . . .

"You're a sucker for her."

When Aaron looks up from his paperwork to see Dave in the doorway, it takes only another split second for him to catch on to what the older man is referring to. "Really, I'm saving you," he answers, looking back down at the file. Half of his brain is cataloguing the information on the page – six victims, early twenties, female, blond and oh, gosh, has he ever seen anything like this before? – while the other half is paying attention to the conversation. If he wants to get Emily out of here in a decent time, he has to be on top of his work.

It's a hell of a motivator.

"Saving me?"

"Well, the team," he amends, darting a glance up at Dave. "She'd be calling each and every one of us, on rotation, for the day. She's bored at home, at least here she can feel like she can be put to work."

"The whole point of recuperation is rest," Dave points out, taking a seat in one of the chairs without being asked. David Rossi always just moves right in.

Aaron raises an eyebrow. "You want to tell her that?"

Dave laughs. "No. Her mood swings are quite thoroughly your problem now. As is her stubborn streak."

Aaron doesn't mind really. It's not like Emily has quirks that aren't tolerable.

Oh, hell, Dave's right. He's entirely gone over Emily Prentiss. What's funny, is he can remember the feeling of the fall. He remembers sitting on the couch last night after dinner, Jack having picked yet another Disney-Pixar production, watching Emily gaze down at Jack giggling into her side with a look like she could belong there. Like she should have always been there.

And he fell.

But they're not even in a relationship yet. A quasi, testing relationship, yes, but love doesn't come out in those. They're dating, kind of, testing the waters to decide if maybe they do really want to date.

It feels so complicated.

Really, it's simple.

He wants her. She wants him. They want each other, they balance each other, they're good together. He's not willing to risk letting another second chance pass him by – or is it the third, because his second chance at love was before she died, and thus, this would be the third – because of 'complications'. He's learned there's always going to be complications.

So the only thing they can do is just freaking jump.

But he's not jumping without her.

"It's not hurting anything to have her in here," Aaron points out absently. "She and Reid are working together just fine."

"Because this is their 'make up' moment," Dave responds.

Aaron looks up, shifts his brain around that thought and blinks. "You're like an Italian grandmother."

Dave's jaw drops and if Aaron's would have too, had he been paying attention. "Are you calling me a gossip?"

"You are a gossip, Dave. The team knows it. If they want any information, they come to you. They always have."

Exaggeration, but point made. Dave glowers.

The silence catches Aaron's attention and he looks up, blinking the fog of case from his brain once again. "What?"

"You think I'm worse than Garcia?"

Aaron thinks back, goes over the conversation and then offers a quick grin. "Yes."

"You know what? I take that back. Emily's terrible for you."

Aaron chuckles, but Dave does look decidedly put out. He knows there's only one way to fix it. "Ask her about Christmas."

"Christmas?"

But Aaron's already gone back to his papers. Really, sending Dave to Emily serves two purposes: for one, he can get back to the damn paperwork. Even with Morgan shouldering half it feels like the pages breed and multiply before he can finish one. Second, it sends gossip-loving Dave to someone else, someone who is in a better position to define what he and Emily are. He's made it clear that he's just waiting on her word.

And if she can't decide in eighteen days, he's going to Plan B.

If she can't decide that they can be involved on Christmas Day, he's going to break every rule the Bureau imposes on him.

He's going to seduce her.

Because he's made a decision of his own now, beyond the fact that he wants her. He will  _have_  her. He will show her that they're good together, that they need each other, that Jack needs them both together.

Otherwise, he's pretty sure the fall out will break them all.


	8. December 8, 2011

Emily doesn't expect the knock on her door at 9am.

It's after Hotch's departure time – her alarm didn't go off and she missed it so now she's stuck around her apartment all day, that's their deal – and she can't think of any one else who would come to visit. Her mother maybe, but she's pretty sure her mother's in the Ukraine.

Her curiosity piques when she looks through the peephole, gun in hand because she can't stop being suspicious, and sees a pimply faced kid impatiently tapping his foot. In his hand, is a bouquet of daffodils. Her eyebrows hit her hairline as she works on the locks and chains before pulling open the door.

"Emily Prentiss?"

"Yes," she says carefully, hiding her gun behind the open door. It's possible the kid's harmless.

"Delivery," he replies, obnoxiously snapping a wad of gum in his mouth. She's tempted to make a smartass comment around the fact that she can obviously see he's got a delivery, but refrains. Instead, she takes the bouquet and lays it on the hutch just inside the door, returning with a couple of bucks. At least he tips his ball cap on his way out.

She deals with the locks then all but dives for the flowers, searching through them as she carries them to the kitchen. She finds the little card in the plastic trident and opens it awkwardly. A piece of newspaper falls to the floor as she opens the card.

_Date #1?_

Her heart pounding, she reaches down for the newspaper clipping. It's an ad from the paper for a caroling concert down at the Mall tonight. She breathes out a shaky breath.

Hotch just asked her on a date.

Her hand goes to her heart, absently brushing against the scar of the four leaf clover as she goes. Her skin is vibrating and she can feel her heart thumping through her chest. A real, honest to goodness date.

Oh my God.

She calls him, just to make sure.

"Hotchner."

"You sent me flowers." Huh. The awe and reverence wasn't supposed to be there. She can almost see his eyes clearing as his mind shifts to the conversation, identifies the voice on the phone. It isn't often that he answers without checking the ID first.

"Emily."

She swallows. "You sent me flowers." God, she feels like a fifteen year old.

"I haven't been out of the dating game that long," he says on the other end of the phone.

She's having a very difficult time breathing. "Did you guess?"

"Asked JJ."

They both laugh and Emily's glad for it. The idea that he could have guessed her favourite flower, or that she'd somehow let it slip over the years and he'd stored that knowledge away is a little scary. She's suddenly grateful that they're not making their relationship a secret.

"So?" he asks.

"Yes," she breathes.

There's an actual hitch that she can hear on the other end of the line.

Oh God.

It's  _real_.

"I'll pick you up at seven?" he inquires. "We can take the Metro."

"Dinner?"

"Not this time."

She's actually kind of grateful for that. She also understands. He has to be able to get away from the office, to go home, change… And adding dinner puts unwanted pressure on both of them. It's not supposed to be difficult, she realizes, just an easy night out with caroling and company.

"Dress warm," he murmurs into the phone.

She smiles to herself, and patently ignores the way her fingers curl tighter around her own cell. "I think I have some leg warmers in my closet."

It makes him laugh, which had been her intended goal. "I'll see you at seven."

. . . . .

Seven takes its bloody time. They're still off rotation since Emily's out – they'll be back on rotation on Monday after her stitches are removed – so it's just paperwork and consults, the kind of stuff that most of them hate. It's not as entertaining or all-consuming as an actual case, and while they're not happy every time a case comes across their desks, the fact that they have something else to focus on is a big deal to them all.

Paperwork always seems so mundane.

So he's glad to get out of the office.

Jessica's okay with watching Jack for the night. She'd asked him about it, about Emily, and he'd given her a bare bones story. Jessica had seemed both happy and sad and Aaron can totally understand that. There is a part of him that feels like moving on with Emily means he's losing a part of Haley. At the same time, he knows that no one really expects him to be in love with a ghost for the rest of his life. Especially not a ghost that walked out and took his son.

"I like her," Jessica had said into the phone when Aaron had called. "She's good for Jack."

She's good for Aaron too.

Eventually, though, seven arrives, and as it does, he knocks briskly on Emily's apartment door. He's glad she had to get a new apartment, actually. He's not sure how he would have felt walking up to a door that Ian Doyle had known about. Damn spectre.

But all of his dark thoughts virtually disintegrate when Emily pulls open the door, a bright smile on her face. She darts out to press a kiss to his cheek, lingering.

"Hi."

She  _cannot_  keep doing this.

His hands fall to her hips, kind of keeping her balance since she's on her toes, her mouth at his ear. "Hi."

Then she's skipping back a few steps, leaving the door open for him to step through. He can see the daffodils on her little coffee table and it makes him smile. A place of prominence. He likes that.

"Ready to go?"

Aaron looks back at her, watching her wind a scarf around her neck single-handedly, heavy boots on her feet. She shrugs into her coat and he can't help stepping forward, helping slide the left shoulder over her injured arm. Her hand falls away as he does up the buttons, her eyes dark. He's living a cliché isn't he, looking into those eyes. He forces himself to make rather quick work of the buttons then drops his hand. She catches it, her skin warm against his, her cheeks pink. He tugs her out the door to quell the temptation to actually kiss her, to keep her there. Just over fifteen days, he reminds himself.

She releases his hand to lock her door and he helps her tug on a mitten, even though they have a bit of a drive yet. She lets him buy her Metro ticket, because she knows she's going to want something warm and fully intends to treat on that one. Sure, it's a date, but if the hot beverage is going to be her idea, she's going to insist on paying for it.

He presses against her for the ride to Smithsonian station, his left to her right. They talk about her stitches, the day in the office, Jack, and it's easy. In some ways it makes sense. They are friends, were friends before they decided to see about something more. Why shouldn't it be easy to talk to each other?

There's a biting wind when they step out of the station. Sometimes, the Mall acts as a bit of a wind tunnel, especially by the museums. Tall buildings on either side, the Capitol at one end… She shivers and a second later, he's got his arm around her shoulders, tugging her into him and guiding her along. It's not like she needs the help – there's a huge crowd gathering by a raised stage, it doesn't take a genius – but she feels her cheeks heat. She smiles up at him, struck by the fact that this is what it could be like.

She pushes up to her toes again, brushing her lips against his cheek. "Thank you."

He looks down curiously.

She just offers a shrug. She's not exactly sure what she's thanking him for either, she just knows she needs to. For saving her maybe, showing her that there's more, pushing her to fight, being by her side every step of the way… There's a million things.

When the caroling starts, she's absolutely enthralled and Aaron cannot help watching her instead. She hums along with some of the songs, eyes shining in the lights from the stage and if he wasn't already pretty sure he'd slipped into something more than just 'like' with her, he knows he would be a goner now.

They stay in DC late at a coffee shop, just barely catching the last Metro, laughing and running to ensure they're on it. It's not a packed train, but they stay standing, just so he can hold her close, her forehead against his shoulder. He looks over to her when they climb into the car, idling for a few minutes to let it heat.

"Stay tonight."

Her head snaps up as she looks at him in surprise. There's a heat underneath that shock, the same one that crackling over his skin. "It's not a good idea."

Oh, it's a fantastic idea, they both know it. But he can also recognize what she's not saying. It's not time yet. Not for them, not for this. Still, he reaches over, takes her good hand. "Emily."

She groans, and his eyes close. They're killing each other at this rate.

He sighs, putting the car in gear. "You're right. Absolutely right."

They're going to burn each other alive.

"Hey."

He looks over when he stops at the edge of the parking lot, stopping to check before pulling out into traffic.

"I want to," she says quietly.

He smiles. "I know."

She's silent for the rest of the ride and he gets a little nervous, like he's overstepped a line he hadn't known was there. When he pulls up in front of her building though, she turns to look at him, nerves in her eyes.

"Do you want to come up?"

Oh.

Oh!

Huh.

He pulls into a visitor's parking space and they climb out together, in unison because how many SUVs have the exited simultaneously in their time together? They climb to her apartment, and she unlocks the door. He helps her with her coat again, because she's still one-armed.

"What time do you have to be home?" she asks as he sheds his own coat.

"Jack's with Jessica," he replies, knowing he and Jessica had talked about Jack spending the night, just in case. It's easier for both of them if he does and Jess can handle dropping him off at school in the morning.

She wonders if he realizes he's stalking towards her, backing her up against the wall. There's a spark of something in his gaze when her breath catches and her back impacts the sturdy surface. This was why it was an entirely bad idea. Still, she doesn't stop him when he leans in, doesn't put a hand on his chest. Instead, it slides around his neck, fingers dipping into the collar of his sweater.

Then he's kissing her. There's a little bit of frantic passion to it, because they're both away from the office, away from the restraint, and he's had her so close all night, touching her, guiding her, smelling her… She doesn't withdraw. Instead, she responds with a wanton heat that has his heart jumping in his chest. She can feel it, he knows, and he doesn't damn well care.

He nudges her to the couch, catching and releasing her mouth, crossing his fingers and hoping it'll help keep him in check.

Because he knows he's definitely losing his mind.


	9. December 9, 2011

Aaron feels soft skin beneath his fingers first. He's slow to wake because he's warm, comfortable, content. It's still dark, so he knows he's not going to be late for work. So, he lets himself bask, take in the moment, the feeling, everything. Finally, his brain kicks in enough to take stock of his surroundings, including determining just whose soft skin is beneath his fingers.

Right.

Emily Prentiss.

He smiles as his fingertips ghost over her hipbone, a combination of her shirt riding up and the low waistband of her jeans. He allows himself the necessary moments to recount what got them here, the memories of the previous night and his smile widens. How had they managed to stop themselves? He remembers her, sexy and responsive beneath him, giving as good as he does. It has been hot, explosive, beautiful and he can feel himself responding to the very  _idea._  Of course, combined with her proximity, including the way one of her legs has wormed its way between his, it doesn't help, especially with the way their position essentially brings her hips flush with his.

He sighs and shifts, reaching for his phone where it sits on the coffee table. He remembers pulling it out of his back pocket after it dug into uncomfortable places. Regrettably, the movement jostles her enough to wake her. She forces a groan from his throat when she stretches sinuously against him.

"Good morning," he murmurs roughly and feels the shiver drill its way down her spine.

Her head shifts, tilts, and he feels her place an open-mouthed kiss against the skin of his throat. "Morning."

He glances at the time on his phone and sighs. If he wants to get home and shower without hitting Quantico late, he has to go. She mewls and tightens her good arm where it rests low on his stomach when he shares that news. He has to get away; she's too tempting. Still, he leans down, sliding the hand behind her into her hair to cup her skull. He presses his mouth to her part. "I have to go into the office."

Her hand slides against his stomach as she moves it to tuck her fingers beneath her chin. It's an innocent touch but simultaneously erotic. He scratches his fingers against her scalp in retaliation, grinning out of her line of sight when her body bows into him.

"If you want to get up, you want to stop doing that." She punctuates the request with a press of her hips. They share a groan.

Then, fully out of self-preservation, he untangles their legs and shifts her off of his body. Her eyes blink open, foggy with heat and sleep and he can't stop himself from reaching down to brush his fingers down her cheek. Her fingers rise to grasp his and he smiles his heart clenching with how badly he wants this to be normal.

"Call me after your appointment," he requests, unable to keep himself from trailing his fingers down her arm when she releases them. All he gets is a murmur and a vague nod as she drifts back to sleep.

. . . . .

When Emily actually wakes, the sun is shining through her living room. She blinks her eyes against the glare and waits for them to adjust. She releases a puff of happy air when her eyes settle on the bright daffodils in the center of her table.

Today, she decides, is going to be a good day.

Sure, there's a crick in her neck from sleeping on the couch and the fact that she slept on the couch probably is not good for her bad shoulder, but she's riding a high from one of the best dates of her life. She's… happy.

Really happy.

It's a happiness that carries her through her morning, makes her virtually float and unwittingly copy every romantic damsel. It carries her right through to JJ's knock on her front door. The girls are taking her to get her stupid stitches removed. Then they're going to tackle lunch and some Christmas shopping.

Both JJ and Penelope arch an eyebrow at Emily's enthusiastic, almost giddy excitement.

"I take it the flowers were a hit," JJ says as she and Penelope step into Emily's foyer. JJ has a thing about open doors into unfamiliar hallways.

"Flowers?" Penelope questions, her radar tingling. Sure enough, her gaze immediately finds the bright blooms on the coffee table. She whistles in appreciation. "Boss Man sent you flowers."

Emily smiles because she's inexplicably tickled by the fact that Penelope automatically jumps to Hotch. "He did."

"What else?" JJ inquires with a quirk of her mouth. She knows there's more to this story. There has to be. This is… giddy. Uncharacteristically so.

Emily, however, shakes her head. "Stitches first," she requests.

Penelope groans. "Tease."

Emily's smile is beyond secretive. "Trust me," she says. "It's worth it."

. . . . .

The doctor tells her that she has to keep the sling on for another week, just to make sure the skin and muscles knit back together properly, but that doesn't faze Emily in the slightest, nor does it dampen her mood. It's a contagious mood too because JJ and Penelope seem to be humming with just as much happy energy despite the absolutely _packed_  mall they choose.

There are carols piping through the speakers, angry shoppers everywhere and yet, all three of the BAU women have wide grins on their faces. Eventually, they slide into a table at one of the mall's many coffee shops – a Starbucks, because Penelope has a craving for their gingerbread latte – and Penelope fixes determined eyes on Emily.

"You, Madam Secret Keeper, have been teasing us for long enough. Start talking."

The grin spreads across Emily's face and she lets it, aware there's nothing she can do to stop it. "It was…"

God, she's not even sure. How does she tell her best friends that she can feel that this is it. He is it. She doesn't feel so broken with him, doesn't feel like she has something to prove, just something to gain. Something brilliant and light. Something to build forever on.

"You know what? Don't tell me. I'll just be jealous that Kevin never does any of that stuff."

Emily's so giddy she can't even stop that laugh. "I want to say magical. But I'm not sure even that does it justice."

Penelope squeals. JJ laughs. For Emily, it just feels so good.

"Spill. All."

Emily walks them through the night, the ease, the happiness. And makes them both blush when she gets her protagonists back to her apartment.

"I am  _never_  going to be able to look at him the same way again!" Penelope laments. She's a little afraid of Hotch and the mental picture of the Unit Chief sexing up her best friend is a little too personal for her to handle.

But both Emily and JJ laugh.

JJ reaches out to squeeze Emily's hand. "This is a good thing."

"Yeah," Emily answers, even though it's not really a question. "I… I feel like I can be ready. I will be ready."

Both JJ and Penelope are grinning.

"Good," the former says with another squeeze. "You deserve to be happy, Em. You both do."

Emily is starting to believe it.


	10. December 10, 2011

There is very little Jack likes more than the day he and Daddy go visit Santa. There's nothing like it in the world and Jack's extra good as they stand in line. Daddy doesn't like big groups of people. He's always uncomfortable, so Jack knows that he can do little more than bounce on his toes as they wait in line.

Plus, he's not stupid. He's not going to be bad with Santa right there watching! Not like the little girl crying a few Mommies and Daddies up.

He's got something special to ask Santa this year. He's been thinking about it a long time. It's really important to him, so he's going to be the best little boy in the world to make sure that Santa can't say 'no'. Really, Jack only wants one thing and he's hoping that by only wanting one, Santa won't disappoint him. He was going to ask Santa to bring Emily back first, but she's here, so he can't ask for that. But that's okay, because Jack's got something better. Something he wants more.

They move slowly, and Jack has to bite his cheek more than once to keep himself from blurting out the question he wants to ask. 'Are we there yet?' He knows Daddy will tell him, probably explain that there are so many families in front of him, but Jack knows it won't help. He can't help but be impatient though, because this is  _really important._

This is about  _his_  family.

He misses Mommy a lot. It's hard, sometimes, to be the kid in class without a Mommy. Just yesterday Archer had told a story about how he and his mommy decorated their tree. Jack doesn't always remember much, but he remembers that. Daddy does a good job, and having Emily around does help – he wasn't lying, honest! – but it's not quite the same. Jack's learned at an early age that perfect is whatever he wants it to be.

He sighs and winces a little when Daddy looks down. He can't help himself. He wants to see Santa  _now_. What happens if Santa leaves before Jack can get his wish in? Jack doesn't want that at all. That will ruin  _everything_. And this has to be the most perfect Christmas ever because then Emily will stay. She'll have so much fun that she won't ever want to leave again. And then he'll always have an Emily and Daddy will be happier. So will he.

So this is  _important_. It can't be written in just a letter either. It's not good enough because then Santa can't see how serious this is, how important. Like the face Daddy makes when Jack's done something really wrong or when something bad happens. Jack knows it's important because Daddy gets that 'very important information' look on his face and Jack listens  _very_ closely. Like when Daddy told him he couldn't go through the stuff he brings home sometimes. It's not for Jack.

So Santa has to see that this is just as serious.

But this is  _hard_.

"Hey Buddy?"

Jack looks up, curious. Daddy's reaching into his pocket, pulling out his phone and typing in the numbers he has to, to make the phone work. Jack's tried, but he doesn't know what it means. That was another serious talk.

"Want to play a game?"

Daddy's got a few games on his phone that he lets Jack play from time to time, especially if they have to wait a long time like this. When they bring Aunt Jessica, Jack gets to do stuff with Daddy and his cousins while Aunt Jessica waits. Sometimes he plays with Aunt Jessica while Daddy waits, but Jack had been very serious about it just being him and Daddy this time.

"The maze game, Daddy?"

He takes the little device Daddy hands him and feels Daddy rest a hand on his head. He does that sometimes, just to make sure Jack's right there with him. He's had a serious talk with Daddy about how important it is to stay close and to always know where Daddy is. Jack knows a lot about how strangers can hurt him. He always stays close to Daddy. So he doesn't mind the weight on his head as he tries to work the maze.

Every once in a while, Daddy puts pressure against the back of his head, pushing him forward gently. Jack goes, his eyes still focused on his game until Daddy leans down.

"Okay, Buddy, you're next."

He starts bouncing. He can't help it. He's going to get to tell Santa what he wants for Christmas! He's going to make it. He tucks the phone back in Daddy's pocket and grabs Daddy's hand as he starts bouncing. Daddy chuckles – he's been doing that more and Jack likes it – but doesn't scold him. He likes this Daddy, the easy-going one that he doesn't always see. He sees it more now that Emily's back. That's why this wish is  _so important_.

When he gets the okay from Santa's elf, he scampers forward. He's excited so when Santa lifts him onto his lap, Jack wiggles until he's comfortable, then has to take a deep breath. Serious face. This is important.

The elf comes up to whisper in Santa's ear, then he looks down and says. "What do you want for Christmas, Jack?"

This is  _the moment_ , so he looks Santa in the eyes and he starts:

"A while ago, Em'ly had to go away. She didn't come back for a long time, and my Daddy was very sad." He sucks in a deep breath looking down at his hands. "She got hurted and then, when she was better, she came back. But a bad man still wanted to hurt her. Like George hurt my Mommy."

Daddy's told him that it's not bad to talk about George and Mommy. He can if he wants to. But Daddy also says people might get nervous so Jack pushes on because it's really just part of the story. He's getting to the important part.

"Then Daddy and Em'ly got the bad man and Em'ly stayed. 'Cept she still hurts sometimes, and she gotted hurt again chasing another bad guy." Now he looks up at Santa again. "Santa, what I want for Christmas is for Em'ly to be okay."

Santa blinks and Jack finds himself getting nervous. "Is she in the hospital?" Santa finally asks.

Jack shakes his head. "No hospital. Her heart hurts. And I want her to stay with us forever, Santa. I don't want her to hurt anymore. Can you make Em'ly stop hurting?"

"I'll pass the message onto the elves," Santa says, and Jack almost narrows his eyes. There's nothing jolly in Santa's voice. "I'm sure we can come up with something."

Oh. Jack's body sags. Oh good. He was scared for a minute Santa wouldn't be able to help. His face breaks out into a wide grin and he hugs Santa tight. "Thanks Santa. I promise I've been good. For Daddy and for Em'ly, even though she got hurted again."

He catapults off Santa's lap and races for Daddy. Daddy swings him up easily and Jack giggles.

"Did you tell Santa what you wanted?"

"Uh huh," Jack agrees. "But I can't tell you, Daddy. Santa says he has to talk to the elves first, but I had my  _very_ serious face on, so he knew it was important."

"You're not going to tell me, huh?" Daddy says as they walk away from Santa.

"Nuh uh. Too important."

"A Christmas wish isn't like other wishes. You can share Christmas wishes."

But Jack just shakes his head. Then he sighs. "Daddy, you don't  _get it_. It's still a wish. And if I want my very important wish to come true, I can't tell  _anyone_." Not even Emily and Jack likes telling Emily everything. She listens and she helps him. Daddy tries, but he's not as good at it as Emily is. Jack thinks maybe Daddy just needs a little practice. Maybe Emily can teach him.

Jack likes that idea. A lot. Maybe they can start now. He looks up at Daddy.

"Daddy? Can we call Em'ly?"

. . . . .

"So I hear you saw Santa today."

Jack's on the floor in front of her. They've got his Legos on the floor because she promised him she'd play after dinner. Hotch is doing the dishes in the kitchen, and part of Emily feels a little guilty for taking up this time with the man's son. Part of her really doesn't care. Jack's too awesome of a kid for her to want to voluntarily give up time. Plus, Hotch took him to see Santa. They've had father-son time.

Now it's time for Emily-Jack time.

Since Haley's death, Emily's tried with careful maneuvering, to be a part of Jack's life. It's important to her because she wants to make sure that Jack has strong people in his life. She wants to make sure that Haley's last wish is granted. Jack will know how to love and he'll know how to love with his whole heart. Haley loved with everything she was, and Emily is going to do the woman's memory justice with her little boy.

Sure, Emily hated what Haley did to Hotch. They were friends at the time, got closer through the divorce proceedings. Emily's the child of a divorce, not a brutal one, but she was old enough when her parents split to see the toll it took on them both. But Emily's never really hated Haley, the person. She knows that even for a time, Hotch was happy with her, and Hotch loves his son, needs his son. Emily can't hate a woman that's given Hotch the one thing that keeps him pushing forward, that keeps him coming home.

"He says he has to think about my wish," Jack reveals, snapping together red and yellow blocks in a pattern. Jack is less about building actual things and more about putting them together in cool ways. Patterns, mostly, though they made cubes of red, blue, yellow and green blocks just before she got stabbed. "He says he and the elves will have to figure something out."

"What did you wish for?"

He looks up at her, leveling her with a look that is just so Hotch, Emily wants to burst out laughing. She resolutely refrains though, simply cocking her head to the side. She responds to these pockets of Hotch the same way she would the real Hotch. She knows it makes Jack feel important, to be treated like his father.

"I can't  _tell_  you," he says, like she's the village idiot. She actually has to bite her lip to keep from laughing at that one. "If you tell what you wish for it doesn't come true."

Emily considers that. "I don't think that works for Santa's list, Honey."

"But it's a wish," Jack argues. "Like any other wish."

"Not really. It's a Christmas wish; it's a special wish. Not like the ones you make when you blow out your candles on your birthday cake." She knows she has to go about this carefully. "You gave a Christmas list to Daddy."

Not entirely true. Hotch is pretty good at figuring out what Jack wants for Christmas. It's beyond impressive, actually. He's a steel trap of memory when it comes to his son.

"But Daddy's not Santa. Santa brings the special presents, the ones Mommy and Daddy can't."

If she ever doubted Jack's belief in Santa before, she sure doesn't now. More importantly, now that she knows he believes in Santa, she doesn't want to ruin that magic. Jack needs to keep believing in Santa. The rest will be ruined soon enough.

"And if you tell me, Santa won't bring it?"

Jack nods.

Emily thinks on that. Huh. She's going to have to choose a different strategy. Jack's smart, but she plays around in the mind of serial killers for a living. She needs to quit if she can't outsmart a seven-year-old. Even if he's Hotch's seven-year-old. She glances to the kitchen, realizing Hotch is taking an abnormally long time but eventually choosing to ignore it. Sure, she's glad for it, but Hotch is deliberate about these kinds of things.

"It's special, huh?"

He nods again, solemn as his father.

"How long have you wanted it?"

He shrugs, and Emily belatedly realizes that maybe he's a little embarrassed. "Long time."

"Weeks?"

"Nuh uh."

"Months?"

She gets a nod on that one. Okay, getting somewhere. Something Jack's wanted for months.

"Since I came back?"

He nods again, but this time, Emily sees the tension in him. "Buddy, did you make a Christmas wish about me?"

His little fingers are fiddling with the Legos now. He's not building anything, just moving it around, running his fingers over the little circles. "I just want you to be happy. You and Daddy."

Tears spring to her eyes and she reaches for him. "Oh, baby."

He comes willingly, curling into her. She wraps her arms around his body – ignoring the slight discomfort it causes her because of her still healing shoulder – all but trying to absorb the little ball he makes himself in her lap.

"I am happy," she whispers to him. "You and Daddy and Christmas make me happy, Jack. Being back, with you, with my family,  _that_  makes me happy."

"But you're not happy all the time."

"No," she agrees. "But that's okay too. Sometimes things make us sad. Like sometimes when you think about your mom, or when your dad thinks about your mom."

"Are you scared, Em'ly?"

"Of what, sweetheart?" Wow, she's on a role with these pet names, isn't she?

"Of having to go away again?"

Oh. He keeps this up, he's going to break her heart. "I didn't want to go the first time," she murmurs to him. "I didn't want to leave you or your daddy."

"Then why did you go?"

"We talked about this," she says gently. In reality, she'll tell him whatever he wants to hear as many times as he wants to hear it if it means he'll settle; if it means he'll believe her. "The bad man was after me. Ian, remember?"

"With Declan."

"Right," she agrees. "And because I needed you and Daddy safe. Mr Reid and Mr Rossi and Miss JJ and everybody else, too. I had to go away. Remember we talked about you and your mom having to go away?"

She feels him nod against her neck, her collarbone.

"Daddy sent you and your mom away instead, even though he wanted you here with him."

"I didn't like that."

"I didn't like going away either," Emily promises the little boy in her lap. "But sometimes, as we grow up, we have to make choices we don't like to make."

"But you're still hurting," he argues. "Even though Ian is gone."

"I was scared for a long time," she says after a few moments. Explaining this to a seven-year-old is entirely different than explaining it to Garrett. "It's hard to believe that you can stop being scared."

"Are you still scared?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes it sneaks up on me."

"Like the bad dreams."

"Yeah," she says with a bit of a smile. "The bad dreams do that. Sometimes so does work." There's a pause, then she says. "But it's easier now. I'm not scared so much. And I'm happy a lot of the time too."

"But not all the time."

"No."

"Most of the time?"

"Not quite," she answers honestly, because it seems so important to him. Plus, it's the best metaphor she has for what she's going through, the struggles she lives with every day. "But I'm getting there." She digs her fingers gently into his side to get him to giggle and squirm. "You help."

"And Daddy," Jack succeeds in saying between giggles.

It reminds her of Big Hotch and she raises her head to find him watching them both, eyes warm, heated, wanting. "Yeah," she manages to breathe. "And Daddy."


	11. December 11, 2011

There's no snow on the ground for tree hunting day. Aaron's been hearing about it since Jack woke him up at the crack of dawn. It's snappy, but sunny, and there isn't a flake of white on the ground. Nor is Mother Nature threatening to dump six feet on them over the course of the day. It's been a battle to get Jack into the car. And his boy is still pouting. Big time.

But with the unpredictability of Aaron's schedule, he knows that if they want to have a tree for Christmas they have to do it today. Before everything gets thrown out of whack. Emily's coming too, and he doesn't want to cancel. He also wants to teach his son the responsibility of making plans and keeping them.

She's grinning when he pulls up to the curb in front of her building. She's not wearing her sling, but she is wearing a gorgeous black pea coat over a pair of light jeans and boots. Her dark hair is tucked under a white cap and he can't help but think she looks gorgeous.

And chances are she'll be his.

"Hey," she says softly as she climbs in.

He offers her the best smile he can and one of the take out mugs in the center console. "Tea," he promises, because he's noticed she's cut back on her coffee. Pretty much cold turkey too. "Raspberry."

"I love the berry teas." There's a quiet note of gratitude in her voice and something else vibrating in the quiet tone she's employing this morning. She takes a sip, offers him the brightest smile, then turns back to his pouting son. "Hey Jack-Bear."

"Hiya, Em'ly."

She frowns and looks to Aaron. He shakes his head. He's honestly just about at his patience's end with his son. He can't figure out why he's so anal this year, what it is that's got him so focused on the perfect Christmas. Maybe it's something to do with what he and Emily were murmuring about yesterday, heads bent together, Lego at their feet. Maybe that even means Emily can bring him out of his funk.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?"

Jack stares out the window as Aaron pulls out onto the street. Aaron finds himself wondering how long Jack'll hold out. He knows first hand the power of Emily's compassion and concern.

"Hey, Jack Monster." Emily reaches back, shaking his ankle playfully.

Jack giggles, but his face falls back into a pout. Distress lines are forming on Emily's face, just as Jack's manners kick in.

"There's no snow!"

It's almost wailed and Emily barks out a bit of a laugh before she catches herself. She darts her eyes to Aaron's as he pulls to a stop at a red light and he shakes his head. He can't understand it, really, and he knows more than she does. What the heck is the correlation between snow and the perfect tree?

"I see that," she says carefully, turned back to face Jack.

"How are we gonna find a tree without snow?"

Emily tilts her head to the side, classic consideration. "We need snow to find the right tree?"

Jack sighs, as if this is the logic any three-year-old could understand. "We gotta see how the snow looks on the branches," he says with exaggerated patience. "That way we know which trees are the best."

"You can't tell without it?"

Jack groans this time.

"Hey," Emily starts, immediately jumping into the soothing mode inherent in her maternal instincts. "I'm sure we can still find a tree without snow. You have practice right?"

She waits for him to sigh.

"And I know you have a great imagination."

Aaron glances in the mirror to see his son nodding more emphatically.

"So we can just imagine the snow on the branches, can't we?"

"But it's not the same!"

"Enough, Jack," Aaron finally breaks in, having hit the last vestiges of his patience. There's steel beneath his words, scolding. "We can't always have the perfect conditions to do things. Sometimes, we have to use what we have or find a new way of doing things because they need to be done."

Jack's pout deepens and Aaron's just about to start in on him again when Emily rests a hand on his arm. There's a warning glint in her eyes and he realizes just how deep she is in this whole parenting thing with him. And how much he lets her stay there. He's never been sure about more kids, not after everything with Haley, but he's suddenly hit with a terrible need to give  _this woman_ children of her own. He has to look away, but she doesn't notice. She's focused back on Jack.

"Daddy's right," she tells the seven-year-old. "Sometimes we have to do things in ways we're not used to, but that doesn't mean it can't be awesome."

"But we always have warm apple juice and throw snowballs too!"

"Well, we can't throw snowballs," Emily says with a laugh. "But it's still pretty cold outside. I'm sure by the time we find the perfect tree we'll want some apple cider."

"Do you  _promise_?"

The grin that stretches across her face starts with a sparkle in her eye, then takes over her entire face. "When have I ever let you down?"

. . . . .

Turns out Emily's never been tree hunting before. Apparently, living in the embassies meant that the trees were often imported and professionally decorated. The tree in her apartment, as she informs Jack, isn't real. Jack is almost offended at the idea. He's always had a real tree, at least for the Christmases he can actually remember. To Aaron, it makes perfect sense. With work, Sergio and the fact that she lives alone, there's no logic in a real tree. But he's not sure it's entirely true either.

It doesn't seem to matter to Jack, and it does the job of both distracting him, and lifting his spirits. He's set on teaching her  _exactly_  how to find the perfect tree and she seems perfectly happy to go along. She's even the one to pull Jack out of the car and set him on his feet. They're going to get comments about an adorable son, he can see it now.

She takes his hand as she comes around the SUV, blushing but not letting go. "If Little Hotch isn't pouting, Big Hotch can't either," she murmurs to him. Then she pushes up on her toes to press her mouth to his in a brief 'hello'. She glances and relaxes when she realizes Jack's already running away. Neither of them are really ready to start explaining what's going on. Still, they both pick a quick pace to catch up with him.

"First, we gotta go all the way to the back," Jack instructs, drawing out 'all'.

Emily arches an eyebrow. "That's a long way for little legs to walk."

"But I'm not little," he argues easily, taking the hand not attached to his father's.

Aaron exchanges a look with the woman whose hand is warm in his, even through his mittens and the gloves he pulled on as he got out of the car. They both know someone's going to end up carrying him. Which Emily can't do because she just-

Wait.

"Where's your sling?"

She shrugs easily. "At home. And before you turn into my nagging parent – which I am vetoing from now into the future because it's creepy – I'll be fine."

"He's going to want to be carried," he points out, watching her wince as Jack tugs too hard. "Hey, Buddy, why don't you come walk between me and Emily?" He can't help the superior look he gives her.

"Well, if Daddy didn't have my good hand, Jack wouldn't be tugging on my bad one, would he?" she points out, though that sparkle is back again. Why is he imagining doing this with another kid, fighting over who gets to hold Mommy's hand and who gets to hold Daddy's? She hasn't even made her decision yet.

Still, he drops the argument, mostly because Jack looks up at Emily.

"We gotta find a  _good_ one," he tells her, voice serious. "It's gotta have a lot of branches and good ones for hanging stuff. Strong."

"Big strong branches," she repeats back solemnly. "Got it."

This is what he loves about Emily's relationship with his son. She never shrugs him off. She doesn't tell him she knows better, doesn't pretend that she has all of the answers. She's also managed to learn how to give enough information to satisfy curiosity without being explicit. He absently wonders if that's the 'training' of her youth.

"But it can't hit the ceiling," Jack goes on. "A'cause we gotta fit the angel on top. It's really important to put the angel on top."

"Yeah?"

Jack nods. "We're in a 'partment, so Santa can't use the chimney. So he uses the angel to find us, 'cause the angel is the brightest light."

She looks surprised and then glances up at Aaron. He smiles, shrugs, blushes a little. Sure, she's seen the parenting side of him before, but that's a really creative story. It had been after one of Jack's Nights of Endless Stories and he'd been feeling surprisingly creative. He's glad for it though because he's pretty sure Jack would have a meltdown if he believed Santa wouldn't make it.

Especially this year.

He still hasn't gotten out of Jack what exactly he said to Santa, and his son is patently unwilling to share. He'd even asked Emily the previous night but she'd been tight lipped and serious about not pushing. Whatever Jack talked to Santa about, it's not a puppy or a new Lego set. It's serious, and he's figured out it's about Emily. Sure, he hasn't really tried to get it out of Jack either, but if it's something that serious, Aaron isn't sure he wants to ruin the mystery yet.

He just hopes that Emily can figure it out.

. . . . .

It takes them  _hours_  to find the tree. Jack's borderline meltdown and Emily knows she's absolutely exhausted. Hotch seems to be flagging too, but with the way Jack's been darting in and out of all sorts of trees, Emily's not surprised. They're both vigilant because it's  _so easy_  to lose a kid here. Neither of them can help but be worried about it.

Finally, at the very back of the lot, Jack stops dead. Emily can't help but sag in relief and she and Hotch exchange a grin when he does the same.

"Find it?" Emily asks, hoping that the please-tell-me-you-found-it is out of her voice.

"Daddy."

"Oh, he found it," Hotch murmurs just for Emily's ears. Sure enough, they let go of Jack's hands and he races towards a tree fifteen feet away. Emily bites her lip against a giggle as he walks around the entire thing, checking it out.

"This one, Daddy!" he says, pointing at it.

"You sure?" Hotch replies, even as he and Emily step closer. It looks good to him, looks like it could work. It's got full branches, doesn't look too tall…

"Looks like Jack picked the perfect tree," she says softly. She recognizes the significance of this. She hadn't been lying when she'd told the boys that she'd never been tree hunting before. It was never a real thing in the embassies. There was never really a point to it. Hell, she didn't get to  _decorate_  a tree until she was back in the States.

Emily holds Jack's hand as Hotch saws away at the tree and yells 'timber!' with him when it falls. He's grinning up at her, little eyes overtired but trying with all his might to stay awake. It's like he's hopped up on sugar way after bedtime. He leans his head on her thigh as Hotch finds the best branch to grab onto for pulling the bloody thing all the way back to the front of the park.

"Daddy, can we take the wagon back?"

"I hope so," Hotch replies. "That is one heavy tree!"

Jack giggles against her leg and Emily grins. It's been a good day.

. . . . .

Jack's asleep between her and Hotch by the time this 'wagon' pulls to a stop at the front of the farm. It's more like an open carriage filled with hay to sit on, pulled by a tractor. Emily had watched as they tied the trees to the back, tagging each one as families loaded up. Jack had promptly fallen asleep, the minute the wagon had started moving.

"If we can get him on my good side I can carry him to the car," Emily murmurs to Hotch over Jack's head.

He eyes her skeptically and she rolls her eyes.

"Aaron, it's fine. You get the tree, I'll get the kid." She wraps her arm tighter around said boy.

The air of teamwork isn't lost on either of them, neither is the domesticity. There's a big part of her that reacts to the whole thing with a kind of 'what are you thinking' attitude. Why the hell is she dragging it all out? Why the hell isn't she just saying 'yes', to Jack, to him, to all of it? She can feel the words welling in her throat when the other part of her reminds her that as much as she may think she's consciously ready, it's the subconscious that's the problem. Jack's reaction to her stabbing broke her heart. She doesn't want to dump on top of that the fact that she's almost constantly plagued with nightmares. He doesn't need to see her vulnerable.

She doesn't want him to.

Jack mumbles as Hotch transfers him into her arm. He's heavier than he looks, but it's not far to the car. She can carry him for that little bit and she figures she's resourceful enough to figure out how to get him inside. Hotch places the keys in her other palm and she knows he's watching them as she heads for the car. He doesn't have to. She's perfectly capable of carrying boy and keys, even if she is walking a little slower than usual. The door isn't too much of a strain on her shoulder, though she does hiss softly and wince as she transfers Jack into the car. Still, she needs both hands to do it directly so she sucks it up, then buckles the boy into the car. Jack barely stirs and she can't help reaching in to brush at his hairline. She sighs and closes the door, hitting the locks with every intention of checking on Hotch, but when she moves around the back, he's already on his way with a teenager carrying the other end of Jack's perfect tree, wrapped in mesh.

Emily smiles as they come closer. Hotch offers her a look.

"Toby and I are going to get the tree secured to the top."

There's a warning in his tone that makes her arch an eyebrow. Yeah right, Buster. Like she's going to just let that go. "And you expect me to ooh and ahh over your show of manly strength?"

"Considering yours isn't one hundred percent, yes."

Huh. She should have seen that one coming.

"You've already carried Jack over here, which is probably against doctors orders. I think Toby and I can handle the tree." He looks to Toby.

The young man seems a little shocked that this is an argument, like he hadn't anticipated stepping into a domestic conflict. Really, she's just pushing back. "Uh. Yeah. Sure thing, Sir. We've got it, ma'am."

Emily grumbles but climbs into the car. She's still glowering when he gets back in the SUV and she hears him sigh.

"Is this going to be an issue, Emily? We both know you shouldn't be straining your shoulder."

She waves that away. She's over that. She understands that. She folds her arms across her chest as best she can. "He called me 'ma'am'."

She's so petulant that Hotch laughs, leans over, kisses her, then pulls out of the parking lot and the voice in the back of Emily's head that says this is forever gets just a little bit louder.


	12. December 12, 2011

JJ has a long-standing family tradition: every year she and her brothers would pile into the car and go to her grandmother's to build gingerbread houses. Her Nan's been dead over ten years now and she and her brothers are spread across the country, but JJ's continued the tradition as best she can. Before Henry, she'd done it with her college roommates, even Pen and Spence when she was assigned to the BAU. Henry's been 'building' his own since he turned one and mastered his fine motor skills. The tradition is that important.

This year, she's spreading the Christmas cheer even farther. Along with Pen and Spence – the latter she's so relieved is still willing to do it – Derek's coming, and Emily's bringing Jack. Well, Hotch is bringing Jack and Emily. They're coming together.

JJ's beyond excited.

They've had a few 'family' outings since Emily's return but after a year away from them and then another six months without Emily, JJ takes these moments very seriously. She  _missed_  them while at the DoD, and things weren't right when she'd returned after Emily's 'death'. Now they're together. Now it's right.

Spencer's the first one to arrive and JJ immediately sets him to work with Will. She's got candy coming out of her ears and it all needs to go into the ridiculous amount of Tupperware she owns for just these occasions. When Penelope arrives, Derek  _and_  Kevin in tow, she allows Will and Derek to gravitate away from the insanity that is the kitchen. They're in charge of ensuring the tables in the dining room are draped with plastic, and after that, JJ doesn't really care. With Kevin, Pen and Spence, she's got enough hands for now, especially since Pen takes it upon herself to take charge of Henry. JJ focuses on the 'cement' for the houses. She never has enough time to actually make the gingerbread herself anymore, but she also knows that there's never enough icing to put the houses together  _and_ decorate.

Emily, Jack and Hotch are the last to arrive and Jack's essentially bouncing as he stands in front of his father. JJ smiles because this kind of domesticity and intimacy looks good on both of them.

"Hiya, Jenny!" Jack greets, his eyes bright. He looks right giddy and it makes JJ grin as she steps back to let them in. She's struck with how easily they move as a unit, as a family. Then she's returning Emily's tight hug, and accepting a cheek kiss in greeting from Hotch while Jack scampers off to find Henry.

"Derek and Will are in the living room, I think," JJ says, glancing to Hotch, offering him a way out. "I've got Kevin and Spencer working with me in the kitchen to get everything ready and Pen's got Henry. Pick your poison."

"What about the gingerbread?" Emily inquires, handing her coat to Hotch as he slides them both onto JJ's coat-hanging hooks in the hallway.

"Getting there."

Then she's privy to a really adorable exchange of glances between her best friend and her Unit Chief.

"We'll handle the gingerbread," Emily decides and JJ's kind of surprised when Hotch offers no resistance. She's so used to him taking control, being the leader, that to see him acquiesce so quickly to Emily's decision is odd. Then again, she thinks to herself, they had an entire conversation without saying a word. He does peel off to say hello to Derek and Will, but then he's in the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves and standing elbow-to-elbow with Emily.

And JJ smiles because voices are rising, laugher is loud and clear, ringing through her halls and there are smiles all around.

This, she knows, is Christmas.

. . . . .

Later that evening, after the chaos of decorating is over and everyone's taken their masterpieces home. JJ drops to the couch beside Will. Henry's asleep, passed out before the last person left. JJ's just pleasantly tired.

"In another life, you could've been the good Little Lady."

JJ grins as she accepts the mug of tea he's made for her. For all of the resentment that often flies between them because she returned to the BAU, JJ knows this is where she wants to be. This man, this house, this  _family_. "Don't get any ideas."

"Cher, you weren't even barefoot when you  _were_  pregnant." Will's voice holds hints of amused and adoring exasperation, so JJ takes no offense, instead, she curls against him when he sits down. Henry may have been an accident, but he's one JJ has never really regretted.

Especially after today. She remembers in vivid, full-colour detail watching Emily and Hotch, standing on either side of Jack, during the decorating process, but what really comes back to her, is the look on Emily's face, just before they'd begun.

*.*.*

" _Jenny, I don't get it."_

_Somehow, JJ's not surprised at Jack's confusion. She smiles and simultaneously reaches out to grip Henry's wrists at the same time that Will hoists their little boy into the air. He's going for the gummy worms, the little imp. "Your dad and Emily built your house for you, so all you have to do is decorate. I like picking a theme, like dinosaurs or snow sports."_

_Jack's jaw drops. "You made a_ dinosaur _?"_

_She actually did once, in college, when she had time on her hands, so she laughs. "Know what? When we're done, I'll pull out the pictures I took of all my old houses."_

" _Do always, Mommy?"_

" _Yes, I've always done this," she says. Henry's still too little to have perfect grammar and she grins at her little boy, running a finger down his nose. He squirms and giggles in his father's grip, turning his head into Daddy's neck. When JJ turns back to the group at large, she notices Hotch has moved around Jack to slide in between them. His hand, from what JJ can see, has moved to the bottom of her spine and JJ realizes why when she looks to Emily's face. There, she finds affection, amusement and… longing. And though the brunette glances away quickly, JJ's heart clenches._

 _Because Emily would be a_ phenomenal _mother._

*.*.*

"JJ?"

The blond shakes her head. "Sorry. Got lost."

"Yeah," he agrees carefully. "What's goin' on, Cher?"

JJ fiddles with the handle of the mug for a moment. "Were you watching Em and Hotch?"

He hums the affirmative. "You surprised?"

"No," JJ says on a laugh. "Not at all."

"Then what?"

"She… she wants a family."

Will doesn't answer. He knows her well enough by now to know when she's working something through, when she just needs a moment. And it's a pretty broad statement she's offered him. He wants to groan when she sits up, supporting her back against the arm of the couch – he's a cuddler, even when he talks through things; JJ needs space when she's trying to get her head on straight – but she swings her legs carefully over his so as to avoid kicking the mug he's cradling. Will shuffles over until her knees are bent over his thighs and he can rest the mug on her kneecap.

"Hotch gave her twenty-four days to make a decision about their relationship," JJ begins slowly. She knows it drives Will nuts when she takes her time getting to the point, but it's the way she works. She's not as straightforward, more familiar with spinning a story from her time with now three different media departments. "She doesn't need the time, really. She's just… making sure, I guess. She's in for the long run, any blind person can see that."

"It's been a long time comin'," he agrees. He does that sometimes, to speed her up.

She barks out a laugh, like he's surprised her. "It has," she agrees. "But Em still thinks she's not quite up to snuff."

"She's worried she's damaged."

Sometimes, she forgets he used to work in law enforcement, that he of all people knows about haunting pasts, depression, loss. "We all know it's normal. We know that it's something that each individual has to work through in their own time. But when you look at them, watch them… They're both in so deep, Will."

"They are," he agrees, running a soothing hand over her shin at the distress in her voice.

"She wants a family of her own," she blurts out eventually, trying to get to the point. She wants to explain this to Will, because she explains so much to him, but she's not quite sure if she can. And even then, she's not quite sure how. "Kids, marriage… you can see it in her eyes."

"She's jealous."

"And she doesn't want to be because she thinks she doesn't deserve it," JJ goes on, cupping her mug with white-knuckled hands. It alternately depresses her and encourages her. Emily shouldn't think she's so broken, that she doesn't deserve to be loved. She shouldn't believe that she's so broken that she can't be in a meaningful, mutual relationship. She's glad she's starting to see that, that Hotch is helping her build faith in herself, but she can also tell Emily's still holding back.

"Everyone deserves love."

"She's been through a lot," JJ says, because it's pretty much the best she can offer. She recognizes how hard it is for Emily to come back, to face them all after essentially forcing herself to leave. After making the decision to go rogue, to take out Doyle herself. It is, by far, the stupidest thing she's ever done.

And then coming back? Yeah, JJ can't imagine that. She was forced out of the BAU, there was nothing she could do, nothing Hotch could do. They all understood that. Emily though? Emily made the choice herself and they  _buried_  her. And that's all  _besides_  tackling the mindfuck that would have been her time with Ian Doyle. Playing his lover, a maternal influence to his son, knowing the whole time that she'd have to walk away. JJ knows that it couldn't have been easy. Beyond that, she knows that at least a piece of Emily loved Ian. Emily's alluded to it, talked about it in some ways. Then there was the whole fiasco with John Cooley and Matthew Benton…

JJ's the first to recognize Emily's broken. The thing is, though, they all are. They all have their pasts, their secrets, their skeletons, and they all jump up at the worst times to haunt them and kick them while they're down. But JJ's found Will, regardless of her own issues. Penelope has Kevin, and she and Derek have one of the most intense friendships JJ's ever seen. Spence has Emily, has Hotch, has Derek, and Penelope and JJ, herself. And there's an odd threesome going on where Emily and Hotch watch Dave's back like younger siblings hiding their older brother's mistakes from the ever-watching parent. They all love each other.

But that look on Emily's face, the one that says she wants her own biological children and that she wants them with Hotch, makes JJ ache in the worst ways.

"Hey."

She looks up to find Will watching her intently. He's letting everything show on his face, how much he loves her, how much he wants her, how proud he is of what she's doing and what they've done. She feels her blood heat and moves to set her mug on the coffee table, plucking his from his hands to do the same. Then she turns her attention to him, this man that loves her, the man that gave her the little boy she loves so much. His eyes heat in response to hers and he's tugging her onto the couch, rolling on top of her and JJ sighs at the familiar feel of his weight.

And all she can, other than let Will plunder her mouth, run his hands over her body, is hope that one day, Emily would have the same thing.


	13. December 13, 2011

Jack got into a fight at school today.

 _Jack_.

His son.

The kid who tried to make friends with a kid that was mean to him.

A fight.

He's never felt the loss of Haley so acutely as he does right now. He doesn't know how to do this. Jack doesn't fight, this is an aberration, but Aaron knows he has to have the conversation. Aberration or no, his son should  _not_  be fighting.

He waits until they get home, then waits a little longer to let Jack sulk. It's not necessarily the right thing to do, but it's the only thing he can think of that'll let him talk to Jack. He needs a moment too.

Finally, Aaron dredges up all of his strength – and courage – and heads for his son's room. Jack's on his bed, the picture of Haley he keeps on his bedside table in his hands.

And it all clicks.

"Hey Buddy."

Jack's fingers grip the frame reflexively, then let go. "Am I in trouble, Daddy?"

"I think you know you are," Aaron replies. Even if his son was in the right, allowing Jack to fight for certain things with physical strength is not what he wants to teach his son. Nowhere close. "Do you want to tell me about it?

Jack sighs, like he knows he has to. "We were at recess," he begins. "Kimberley and Shane were talking about their Mommies and how their Mommies made cookies with them last night and they brought some in to share."

"Did they share?"

Jack's head bobs the affirmative. "They were nice about it and everything. But Scott was there too."

Aaron wracks his brain for a 'Scott', finds him under 'the few kids Jack doesn't get along with' and now definitely knows where this is going. Jack would never tell a kid to beat it. He's more likely to just avoid the conflict after realizing he and another kid are just not going to get along. He's not a fan of confrontation. That's what makes these conversations so difficult to have with him.

"And he started asking what I did with my Mommy." There are tears in Jack's eyes now, and he's gripping the picture frame with a white-knuckled grip. "And when I said that Mommy's with the angels and she can't celebrate Christmas with me like we used to, he laughed. He laughed because a bad man hurt Mommy and took her away!"

Jack tosses the frame aside and launches himself into Aaron's arms. The father catches his boy with ease born of practice. Jack's sobbing into his shoulder and Aaron has to clamp down hard on his emotions to comfort Jack.

"Daddy, I miss Mommy."

"I know, Buddy," Aaron replies, rubbing his hand up and down Jack's back. He's not surprised, not really. Haley's always made a big deal of Christmas with Jack and though he only got one, maybe two Christmases with his mother that he'd remember, Aaron knows they were good ones. Haley had that ability.

But more importantly, he doesn't know what to tell his son. He doesn't know how to handle this. Haley sacrificed herself, Haley knew she was going to die, that she was going to leave this little boy behind and while he knows intellectually that it was Foyet's fault, Aaron can't help but shoulder some of that blame. He can't bring Haley back, but by God does he want to. Not because he wants that family life back, but because Jack deserves his mother.

When Jack's calmer, Aaron pulls back, brushing at the tears on his son's cheeks. "What happened next, Buddy?" He wants to keep this informal. Jack knows he was wrong, Aaron can see that, but they both also know that fighting isn't something that can be brushed under the rug. But he also wants Jack to know that loving his mother, memory or not, is equally as important and no child, adult, teenager, has the right to laugh because his mother was brutally murdered by a psychopath.

"I pushed him," Jack says in a small voice. "And then he hit me."

And the fight went from there. Aaron can put the rest together.

"I didn't mean it."

He did. They both know it, but Aaron understands what Jack is trying to say. He acted on instinct. He's getting blamed for something he has no control over, something he knows is not normal and he lashed out. Still.

"You know better than to push, Jack," Aaron says gently, stroking Jack's back to soothe the sting of the words. He knows Jack's been taught to walk away from volatile situations, to take a few minutes to calm down before addressing the issue.

"I was so mad." His son swallows, he can feel it against his shoulder. "I miss Mommy. All the time."

"I know," Aaron promises. He really does. He's not so sure he was in love with Haley when she died, but as his first love, she's got a soft spot in his heart and living or dead, she'll always have that piece of him. And they were good once. It's taken him a while to get to that point, where he can admit that they were good together, that marrying her wasn't a mistake. And beyond the fact that Jack doesn't deserve to suffer like this about his own mother, Haley didn't deserve the darkness he brought to her life.

Emily helps. He knows that. Emily helps both of them. Jack's admitted that having Emily around helps him with missing his mother, but both males are aware that she isn't Haley. Jack in a more superficial way, Aaron thinks, but  _he_  definitely knows. Haley was light. She was love. Emily has pockets of darkness in her. A hard life lived, almost. She recognizes it in him. They recognize it in each other. It's a piece of them, welded to their hearts and minds.

"'Specially at Christmas."

"Your mom loved Christmas," Aaron agrees quietly.

"She's here though, right?" Jack asks, putting a hand to his father's heart. Aaron feels tears spring.

"Yeah, Buddy. Right here." He taps the left side of his son's chest. "She'll always be right there."

"With the angels. Do angels celebrate Christmas?"

"I think so," Aaron replies. He would assume so anyway, but having an in-depth conversation about angels and religion isn't something he really wants to get into for the moment. It's not the point.

"Jack, you know there are plenty of people with only one parent, right?"

"Janna only has a Mommy," Jack replies. "She doesn't know anything about her Daddy. I heard her talking to Miss Lobb about it."

"Right. And Derek only has a Mom."

Jack's eyes go round. "Derek?"

"Mmhmm." In fact, Aaron had considered having Morgan talk to Jack on a few occasions. It's not quite the same, but if anyone knows what it feels like to tragically lose a parent to a killer, it would be Morgan. "So here's the deal: no TV until Friday, okay? That means no movies, or shows."

"But…  _Christmas_!"

"I know," Aaron says, "but when we do bad things there needs to be consequences. It wasn't nice of Scott to laugh at you, but you pushed him, and that's wrong too."

Jack pouts, but he knows his father. Aaron will stay firm on this. He's only really punishing his son with no Christmas movies anyway. It's not a brutal punishment by any extent of the imagination – the kid's got enough toys and an active enough imagination to not need a TV – but it is a punishment nonetheless. Jack's not quite old enough to recognize the subtleties.

"I love you," Aaron says, hugging his son.

"I love you too, Daddy."

. . . . .

With Jack fed and now playing with his Lego in his room, Aaron picks up the phone. He has to. The draw is… intense.

"Prentiss."

"Sorry," he says immediately, because she so rarely answers the phone so formally these days. "Did I interrupt?"

Emily's laugh comes through loud and clear. "No. I got absorbed in a book and didn't check the ID. Everything okay?"

He releases a heavy breath. "Jack got into a fight at school today."

"Your Jack?"

"Do you know another one?"

"Probably," she answers, "though your son is probably the only mutual Jack we have. I just can't connect your son to a fist fight."

"More like a push and a punch. Jack did the pushing."

"Well that's something. Over what?"

"Haley."

She sucks in a breath and it's audible. "Eek."

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

"Couple of the kids made cookies with their mothers last night. Brought them to school. Jack's got this kid he  _doesn't_  get along with, just can't, and when the kid started talking about his mother, he asked Jack about his. Then laughed when Jack said his mother was dead."

There's a gasp on the other end of the phone. "What's the kid's name? I'll go find him."

This was why he'd called her. She makes him laugh. "He's seven."

"So? Means he's gullible. Show up with a badge and gun and I'll explain that sometimes people  _get murdered_  and that's not a seven-year-old kid's fault."

"Violence, Agent Prentiss." But he's surprises that her 'get murdered' doesn't clench his gut. Maybe he knows that she doesn't and can't blame him for Haley's death. In fact she's usually pretty firm on pushing him  _away_  from believing such a thing. "And abuse of power."

"Yeah well. The kid abused a power he didn't know he had and hurt another kid. Hurt Jack. I figure it's tit for tat."

He knows she wouldn't actually, but takes comfort in her visceral response.

"Do you want me to come by?"

It's a tentative offering and he sighs. With the changes in their relationship they haven't really addressed Haley, the role Emily will play as opposed to his first wife. Sure, they do the dual parenting thing, a lot, but they both know Emily's goal isn't to replace Haley. Aaron's problem is that he doesn't want her to feel threatened by his now-dead ex-wife either.

"No," he finally says softly. "We… dealt with it." And he shares enough of Haley with Emily.

"Aaron-"

"Emily," he cuts her off. How does he make her see that this, this time, it's between him and Jack. He's not shutting her out. "I think… I think we just needed to talk about it."

"Okay," she says softly, but there's no resentment in the sound. He hasn't screwed this up. "I don't like the idea of either of you hurting."

It's so Emily. A single statement that embodies how much she  _doesn't_  think he's holding back from her, about her own caring nature.

"We're okay," he murmurs. "We're working through it."

"It's hard at Christmas, when families that are still whole are thrust into our faces."

That's right. She has a broken family too. Or a different one, he guesses. They've made their own from the rubble though. Blood doesn't make a family.

"It's a reminder of what we've lost." Her voice is quiet and gentle. No judgment or recrimination, just understanding. It's shocking.

Then it hits him. "You've given yourself this peptalk before."

Her laugh floats over the phone again. "A few times, yeah. I've grown up with odd family dynamics."

Aaron pauses on the next question. "Did you celebrate Christmas with Doyle?"

"And Louise," she answers. "And Declan. For all of his ruthlessness, Ian was a good father. I had a couple. Three, I think. My mother and I were fighting at that point so I'm pretty sure neither of us were too against the idea."

"Convenient."

"I guess." There's a smile in her voice though, like she's come to terms with it. "What's the punishment?"

"No TV until Friday."

"Ouch." Emily replies with a laugh. "At Christmastime?"

"Well… I can't disagree with him," Aaron explains. "It's the  _one_  kid he can't walk away from and I think he was right to fight back."

"Just not physically," Emily replies. "And you figure with all the toys he has he'll be fine for a couple of days."

Jack wanders out then, having heard his father's voice. "Are you talking to Em'ly, Daddy?"

"I am, Buddy. Did you want to talk to her?"

Jack nods and Aaron informs Emily before handing the phone over.

"Hi Em'ly."

Aaron makes himself busy in the kitchen, doing pretty much nothing until Jack returns the phone.

"Are you okay with me coming over tomorrow?" she asks.

"Sure." As if he's going to say 'no'.

"Kay. We're going to do some more crafts, I think."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," her voice is soft and warm. "I think he needs it. So practice your snowflake cutting because he's going to want to take some into school."

He groans, but there's no heat behind it. He's going to have Emily and Jack in the same room. He's going to have Emily, period. He can't really be all that upset about it, even if it means cutting little holes out of white paper.

She laughs. "See you tomorrow."

"Good night, Emily."


	14. December 14, 2011

Emily wakes groggy and definitely disoriented. There's an ache in her neck and a warmth at her back and a blue glow over the whole room.

Not her room.

Hotch's room.

Hotch's living room.

Right.

Crafts, dinner, bath, bed, then a movie for her and Hotch. Looks like they both passed out. She sighs.

"There you are."

She jumps. "You've been awake the whole time?"

"I'm used to Jack," is all he says.

Emily sighs. But he's right. She hates that Jack's worn her out. "Time s'it?"

"Almost midnight," he answers as she rolls to her back. He brushes hair out of her face. "Almost two hours."

God, her sleeping pattern's going to be a mess.

"How's your shoulder."

She flexes it experimentally. It's easy now that the stitches are out to forget it's even there. She hasn't been wearing her sling that often either and yeah, that doesn't help at all. But there's nothing she can do. Okay, even that's not entirely true, but she's sick of wearing the sling. She's sick of the attention it automatically brings her and the sympathy. It's stupid. She's fine.

"Achy," she answers. "No different than if I slept on it funny."

He hums, the best thing he can do considering. She's warm and soft against him and she's still groggy. And gorgeous. Then she sighs, and he knows what's coming next before she opens her mouth.

"I should get going."

"It's midnight, Em," he replies. "It's insane. By the time you get home and settled you could have had two more hours of sleep here."

She narrows her eyes. The quick answer disturbs her a bit, makes her feel like he planned the whole bloody thing. Letting her fall asleep, at least. He could have kept her up, entertained, the whole thing. And chose not to. But that seems too underhanded even for Hotch. What she is sure of is that he's taking advantage of a situation presented to him. She can't fault him on that one.

Is it really taking advantage if it's what she wants too?

She's been staying away from it. Now that they know they're pushing forward into something more, she's reluctant to push  _too_  far. She likes the pace they're going, plodding along, getting closer and closer, but not quite… It's exhilarating in some ways. They anticipation is almost as delicious as she's now sure the real thing would be. And that's the crux of it really. The 'real thing', she's pretty sure, is going to be a 'forever thing' and if it's a forever thing, she's not going to risk a damn thing. So she's been going slow, steady, making sure she's ready and making sure she can absorb and adapt if she's not.

Underneath it all, she still doesn't think she's ready. Sometimes, when she's back in her apartment, it all hits her so fast. How far she's come, how far they've gone, how far gone she is… Sometimes it's beyond overwhelming. Sometimes she's not sure what to do with that kind of overload. It's difficult to battle that back, to remind herself that this is right and good and she's paid her penance.

Sometimes she doesn't really believe Doyle's gone.

The morose thoughts push her to stand, to go to the window, and then they flee like dogs in the night.

Right there, outside that window, is a winter wonderland.

"When did it start snowing?"

He reacts to the breathless tone in her voice, the awe and the magic. He wants to hear that, more of it, all of it and he wants to be close. He wraps his arms around her when he goes to look with her. "Just after dinner. You didn't see it?"

"No," she says, voice still breathless. She can't believe it. The first snow. "Aaron, get your coat."

"What?"

"Get your coat," she says again. She's already slid out of his arms, is already on the move to Jack's bedroom. This is a tradition, something she's done since she was a little girl when her father used drag her out into the first snow. Every year. She'd ask for a bathroom pass in elementary school if she wasn't off and her dad  _always_  woke her up, even with just a phone call. It was  _tradition_ , he used to say when she really didn't want to get up.

Jack's groggy, but Emily doesn't care. She carries him out, deposits him on the couch as she grabs his boots and his coat. Hotch steps up, helps her, murmuring to his little boy something about how crazy she is and that sometimes, he just has to roll with it. Jack doesn't really seem to mind so much and wakes up fairly fast.

"Em'ly wha's goin' on?"

She scoops him up, hugs him close. "It's the first snow."

Then she's heading out of the apartment, trusting Hotch to follow and lock up. She takes Jack outside into that beautiful white and just stops. "Jack," she breathes into the little head tucked into her neck. " _Look_."

She sees his face the moment he realizes what she's seeing, the absolute beauty of the white flakes falling on a silent street. It's a softer snow, but considering the amount of crunch under her boots Emily's pretty sure it's been snowing since she fell asleep. At least. The entire street is blanketed in white

And it's staying.

She spins around, looking for Hotch, and finds him with the hottest and most heartbreaking look on his face. Like all of this is too good to be true, yet he  _yearns_  to be a part of it. Her shoulder's starting to strain, but she ignores the discomfort to reach a hand out for him. She doesn't want him left out of this. Not something this beautiful, not something he could so easily be a part of.

His hand slides warmly into hers and she sees, with startling clarity, that she isn't the only one battling through personal issues. He has his own, some so entrenched that she isn't even sure if he knows how to conduct himself without those walls. If she thinks she isn't good enough, how does he feel about such an intense relationship – because it is, regardless of whether she's made her decision – especially considering it's his first since Haley's death? His first serious one anyway; the first one that has the serious potential of meaning forever. At least, that's the way she thinks of it. It could be her one good chance at forever and it's  _the_   _thing_  in her life right now she doesn't want to screw up.

Can't screw up.

She leans up, Jack firmly against her other side, and presses her mouth to his. She can't help herself. Jack or no Jack, the fact that he hasn't quite seen just  _how_  close she is to his father… none of that matters as much as reassuring him that this is what she wants. This is what  _they_  want. It doesn't matter how damaged they are, how broken. They're in this together and if  _he_  can remember that, then the least she can do is try and do the same.

She breaks the kiss, pressing her lips together to hold the taste of him. His arm slides around her waist and she leans against him, pressing her head against his shoulder.

"This," she whispers quietly, because she's so afraid she's going to ruin the whole moment. "This is my favourite part of Christmas."


	15. December 15, 2011

Emily shows up at his door that night. She's grinning, happy and he notices the snow melting in her hair.

"It's snowing again?"

She leans up, pressing her mouth to his, sliding her gloved hand around his neck. He responds, because Jack's in his bedroom and tucks her close. He could have this. He wants this. Forever. He feels good about it, especially good because he didn't know, for a while there, if he'd ever get another chance at forever.

"It is," she agrees with the wide smile he definitely loves. "And I couldn't sit inside anymore. Plus, I hadn't seen you boys all day."

He pulls her close, wrapping his arms around her because really, he just can't help himself. He's missed her since… Wow. She's only been gone nine hours. A day. He's so gone, isn't he?

"How are you boys?"

Aaron pauses. It's been an… interesting day. From the minute he woke to find Emily had left a note and a still-warm cup of coffee – he'd actually been a bit put out by that – to his day in the office. It's tough sometimes, to go through the day without her, especially when he knows that it's only a matter of  _days_  before she's back in the office.

Before everything is back to normal.

"Aaron?"

He shakes his head, one of his hands trailing up to cup her skull. When she leans into the touch he lets his fingers scratch at her head gently. She actually groans.

"You need to stop that."

He laughs, but does as she asks, forcing himself to lean in and kiss only the corner of her mouth. He pulls back then, slowly, but he still releases her head. "We kissed in front of Jack last night."

Emily pauses. "Huh." She hadn't really realized that they'd kept from kissing, really kissing, in front of Jack. They've been careful about Jack's opinion of them, careful to make sure that Jack's okay with each of the steps they're taking.

"I woke up to an interrogation."

"An interrogation," she says deadpan as they head for the couch. Well, it's more like he's tugging her that way, but considering, she's not actually that picky about it. "By a seven-year-old."

He shoots her a look. "I almost had to give him the birds and the bees conversation. And you abandoned me."

She barks out a laugh. "I did not  _abandon_ you. I went home."

"Before the sun was up."

She shrugs. She'd had a nightmare, actually, but by this point she's  _really_  good at waking herself up before things get too violent. She hadn't wanted to wake them – and she's been absolutely avoiding all of the connotations around how he managed to drag her back to his bed – and she'd known sleeping wasn't going to happen. She'd managed to have a nap so she's feeling better. Happier. "What did Jack interrogate you about?"

"We kissed in front of Jack last night."

"I don't know what that means." She arches an eyebrow.

"He asked me why," Aaron says. "Why we were kissing."

"Because it's gross?"

"No. Someone told him about kissing."

"Uh…" That creeps her out. Kids telling kids about kissing is a terrible idea. "Okay."

The unasked question there is:  _what did you say_?

"I… He asked about whether this was permanent. He asked if you were staying forever."

Despite the fear that crawls up her throat – because she's not quite ready to go that far, whether she's imagined it or not – she has to smile. Her heart clenches with her stomach because it is what she wants.

"Explaining to a seven-year-old the meaning of 'taking it slow' is not easy."

She laughs.

"Because… that's what we're doing."

"That's what we're doing," she says quietly. "We're… Getting there. I just…"

"I know," he promises quietly, his hand coming up to her cheek. They haven't quite gotten to the point where they can talk about it in full sentences. She's still broken. He's broken though too.

"We're just… letting it grow." She sighs. "What did he say?"

"I… Don't know," he admits. "He seemed okay with it but… Maybe it's because it's you and you've been here since Haley…" He still can't talk about it. That's one of the reasons they're taking their time, fighting against the intensity. The explosion is coming and they can both feel it, but in deference to how much is between them, how much baggage they're carrying, they're embodying resistance and baby steps.

"Do you want me to talk to him?"

"Em'ly!"

Well that certainly puts a damper on their conversation. She catches Jack easily because she's been doing her physio and her shoulder is almost at one hundred percent. She hugs him close and presses a raspberry to his cheek to make him giggle.

"Em'ly, I want to make cookies."

It's kind of a non-sequitur so it takes her a minute to switch her brain over. "Yeah?"

"Kimberley and Shane made cookies with their mommies and I want to make cookies too."

Her heart warms, though she knows that Jack has absolutely no idea why. Well, and he can't feel it for himself. He's just inadvertently called her his mother. Or at least designated her a maternal role in his life. "We can make cookies," she says. "Not tonight though, okay? Maybe tomorrow?"

She looks to Aaron, who seems pensive, but nods. Something's off and while her heart is warming she wonders if maybe his is clenching just a bit. He's not outwardly emotional, but he's human and she can definitely see the kind of chain reaction it would set off in his heart.

Crap.

Maybe this is their second step back.

Which means she's back to finding the will to just freaking jump.


	16. December 16, 2011

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Las Vegas – Can You See What I See?

They get through the gingerbread and the chocolate chip – Jack's list is endless – before Emily can't hold it in any longer.

"Jack, sweetheart, Daddy said you guys had a talk yesterday."

"Daddy and I talk all the time, Em'ly."

She laughs to herself because, really, she should have seen that coming. He's got a smartass streak she's seen before and the tone of his voice is all attitude.

"About me and your Dad."

"The one where he said you'd stay forever?"

Uh.

What?

"Did Daddy tell you that?"

"Nuh uh," Jack says, very carefully kneading the chocolate chip dough. He's adding one chip at a time and it would be funny if it wasn't taking forever. Sure, Hotch – Aaron, she reminds herself – presented her with an open invitation to stay, but that doesn't mean she wants to be finishing cookies while Jack has a bath and story. "Not s'actly."

"Not exactly."

Jack nods.

"Okay," Emily says. This is totally not boding well for her. Jack's usually more open. She wants to have this conversation with him, wants him to hear it from her side but, admittedly, she's not entirely sure where to start. How do you have a talk with your boyfriend's – terrible term and oh God, did she think that? – seven-year-old son – dear God – about the fact that you were kissing his father?

Because kissing Aaron… Jack hadn't even been on her radar at that point. Sure, he'd been a warm weight against her side, but she'd been focused on Aaron, on how devastated he looked, how lost and lonely and the only thing going through her head was the best way to wipe that look from his face. He wasn't on the outside of whatever family-like unit they created, he was a damn  _part_  of it. An integral part, if she did say so herself.

But Jack's just as important in the grand scheme of things and she  _has_  to make sure he's okay with this before she allows things to push any further. Because they really are pushing at this point, straining against the seams she and Aaron have tried to sew tight. They want to take their time, they want to make sure… But she knows hormones and time are getting the better of them both. They've lost a lot of time, they want to make up for a lot of time and their hormones are pushing against that wall so hard that she's pretty sure it's coming down any day.

And if it is, she wants to make sure this little guy is okay with it.

So, she thinks to herself, we'll try another way.

"Jack, do you think I'm trying to take your Mommy's place?"

"You're not my Mommy, Em'ly," Jack says, again with that attitude of 'why would you ask me such a stupid question'. "So you can't take her place. 'Cause you're not Mommy."

The funny part is that it makes sense. She understands what he's trying to tell her. She didn't give birth to him, he knows and remembers who his mother is, so unless Emily some how manages some sort of shape shifting morph, she can't become Haley. It's not a thought process she's considered before.

"No," she agrees after a moment, "I'm not your Mommy. You had an awesome Mommy."

"The best."

Emily grins. She may not have known Haley very well and she may not have liked the way the divorce went down, but Haley did a phenomenal job raising the boy she now gets to stand beside. She also, after a lot of long standing thought and after a lot of late night conversations with Aaron about his late-wife, knows that there's a lot that Haley didn't sign up for when she signed onto the marriage. Sure, everyone knows things change and adaptation is necessary, but even Emily knows that when it comes to the BAU, it's never that simple.

"Do you think I'm trying to take your time with your dad?"

"You're a time thief?"

He sounds so excited that she actually feels a little bad when she shakes her head. "No, sorry Buddy."

He pouts.

"Do you think I'm taking your place? That you're not getting to spend as much time with your dad as you used to?"

"But you've always been here."

That takes a moment to process. And a moment to consider. She's never really taken the time to think about how long she's been in Jack's life, or Aaron's, for that matter. Recognizing that there's a chunk of time that Jack wouldn't remember due to an underdeveloped synapse, she really has been around a while.

"Is this about you and Daddy kissing?"

Well huh. That's one way to deal with it.

"It is."

Jack wrinkles his nose. "Yuck. Daddy says it's 'cause you like each other. A lot."

"It is," Emily agrees through her laughter. "Kisses like that is how grown ups show that they like each other." She'd adventure to say 'love', but like works for her purposes. Plus, Aaron's just in the other room, finishing up some paperwork and she's not quite sure she wants to drop the 'l-bomb' while he's in earshot.

"Then I don't wanna grow up." He gasps with a huge grin. "I can be Peter Pan!"

"You  _are_ Peter Pan," she says with a laugh, because he is a little bit of an imp and definitely seven. He has moments where he acts older, but he's a kid at heart, as he should be, considering his age. It helps Aaron sleep at night, Emily knows. It means his son isn't too damaged by everything that's happened.

"I am?"

She laughs and he laughs with her, even though she's pretty sure he doesn't understand. She wipes her hands on a nearby dishtowel so she can ruffle his hair as their giggles die down.

Finally, when they're both back to breathing normally, she asks, "Jack, are you okay with me kissing your dad?"

"It's yucky."

"Besides the yucky, honey. Kissing is a very serious thing."

"It is?"

"Mmhmm." And she finally sees a way into this. "Kissing means that you  _really_  like a person. Sometimes, it means you love them. And sometimes that can lead to spending forever together."

"Like Mindy, who has two daddies and a mommy?"

"Did Mindy's dad marry again?"

"She put on a pretty dress, I think. She was telling Shane about it. She brought in pictures for show and tell."

"Okay. So she has a step-daddy?"

"She doesn't call him that. She says she calls him Rob."

"Like you call me Emily."

Jack pauses in his slow-adding of chocolate chips. "You would be my second mommy?"

"If your daddy and I decided to get married." Kind of. Close enough. He already knows she's not Haley and she's not trying to be, so she figures this analogy can't hurt. "We're not there yet, sweetheart. But if we want to go there, if Daddy and I start thinking about spending forever together, it has to be okay with you first."

"What if it's not?"

"Okay right now, or okay ever?"

Jack chews his lip for a moment. "Ever."

"Then we have to make a decision. Either I go away, or we find some sort of compromise. Something in the middle that works for all of us."

"You can't go away!" There's such horror in his voice that she immediately reaches for him.

"Hey, hey," she says. "It's not that easy, okay? That only happens if we can't find something in the middle." She kisses his head as she hugs him close, ignoring the batter he's totally getting on her t-shirt. "I'm not going anywhere, Jack. Not like that."

And she will fight tooth and nail to prove that to him.

"So then you're going to stay forever?"

"That doesn't always happen either," she says carefully. She doesn't want Jack going into this with blinders on. She's pretty sure Aaron's  _it_  for her, and she's pretty sure she's _it_  for him, but that doesn't mean that it's set in stone. After all, he and Haley broke.

Oh.

Oh, perfect.

"Remember when you and Mommy left Daddy?"

"No," Jack answers. He was probably too young. "I 'member Daddy visiting."

"You remember you and Mommy stopped living with Daddy?"

"Uh huh."

"Your Mommy and Daddy thought they'd be together forever." Though twenty years is pretty damn close considering the statistics. "But they didn't. And that's okay too. You still got to see Mommy and you still got to see Daddy, right?"

Jack nods this time.

"Okay, so here's the deal." She lays it out for him as best she can. "Daddy and I like each other. Enough to kiss each other. And we're thinking about spending forever together." Kind of. They're not there yet, but she knows she can see a future with these two brilliant boys and she knows she likes that picture. A lot. "But before we really start thinking about forever, we have to think about you. You're really important, Jack, because Daddy and I don't want to do something you don't like."

"I like you," he tells her in a small voice.

She presses her lips to his cheek. "I like you, too. I like you enough that I'd like to stay forever."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she promises. Because it's freaking  _true_.

Jack chews on his lip for a moment, then he says, "I think I'd be okay if you stayed forever. You're not my Mommy, but sometimes, when you hug me tight or tickle me, it doesn't hurt so much that she's gone. I think if I have a second Mommy, I want her to be you."

Emily grins – because  _really_  what else is she supposed to do – and feels the tears welling up in her eyes. It's the biggest vote of confidence she could have received on her relationship with Aaron.

It means the world.


	17. December 17, 2011

They didn't talk about Haley last night.

Emily knows it was weighing heavily on his mind. Probably still is. Jack's little slip a couple of days ago about how his friends were making cookies with their mommies, so he wanted to make some with her. The difference is, now she and Jack have talked and about Haley to boot.

She feels like they should have talked about it though. Haley's going to be a specter in their relationship. There's nothing they can do about that and she tries to make sure she understands that Haley was Aaron's first love. True love, for all intents and purposes. She can't live up to that, nor really should she. She's her own person, different from Haley, and she knows Aaron sees that.

More importantly, she's absolutely certain Jack sees it that way.

Jack recognizes that she's not the same as his mother. Beyond the fact that they look nothing alike, they are two different people too. The fact that Jack finds it easy to say that he doesn't miss his mom so much when Emily's around lends itself to that opinion too. She's not worried about having to 'live up' to Haley when Jack's made it so apparent that he doesn't see them that way.

It probably helps that she's been in his life since before his mother's death. He'd met Emily before Foyet, before WITSEC, before his life was upended the first time. And then she'd been virtually inseparable after his life was turned on it's head the second time. For all he knows she has pretty much always been there. And she's never even  _thought_ about taking Haley's place.

But Aaron… She knows he carries way too much residual guilt over what happened to her. He had no control. She knows it, the team knows it, hell, Haley knew it. As angry as she was about uprooting her life, when it came down to the wire she'd understood. Hated it, but understood. She also knows that any reference to her is difficult for him, especially when it comes out of Jack's mouth. And while she may have known with intense clarity that baking cookies in an echo of his friends didn't mean Jack saw Emily as his mother, Aaron wouldn't necessarily be so lucky.

He's paranoid Jack is going to forget Haley.

Emily both knows and trusts that to be a physical impossibility. She even encourages conversations about what Jack remembers doing with his mom. She  _wants_  him to remember Haley, the same way Aaron does. Haley essentially freaking  _sacrificed_  herself for that little boy and if that isn't love and devotion, Emily isn't sure what is. So, she's entirely in support of doing whatever it takes to make sure Haley's memory burns forever in the mind of her son.

She wonders if maybe she needs to make sure Aaron knows that.

Especially since now, with the best blessing a seven-year-old can offer, Jack's cleared the path for them to move forward. But it won't work if she and Jack are the ones moving forward and Aaron can't. That null and voids the whole process, actually and it's so important to Emily that they're all on the same page.

It's also kind of surreal. She never would have expected to be here, in a place where  _she's_  the one most confident in a relationship. Isn't she supposed to be the scared one, the one so afraid of her baggage that she pulls away from what she could have, from what could heal her completely? Being the assured one is totally not the role she saw herself playing when Aaron said he'd give her twenty-five days. It's totally not the role she envisioned when she had to tell Aaron to fight for her. Suddenly, the tables have turned and she's the one that's going to have to fight for him. Or maybe just fight him. She doesn't quite know yet.

Right now, he's potentially the only one that doesn't see everyone's okay. He's the one that's pulling back because Jack inadvertently related her to Haley. It's kind of unacceptable. It's kind of understandable. So now Emily has to try and figure out the best way to address the problem without putting either one of them on edge or risking their relationship.

No pressure.

. . . . .

Jack gave him a funny look last night when he suggested they talk to Haley before bed.

And now he feels stupid.

It's funny though, the way Jack can do that. Sometimes, Aaron knows, he overcomplicates what his son is saying, reads too far into the subtext. He'd suggested they talk to Haley because he was concerned Jack was thinking of Emily as his mother. In some ways, that wouldn't be a terrible thing. Aaron does want Jack to believe that love and family can come from anyone, anywhere. It's not just blood, it's emotion, it's trust, it's bedrock. He's glad Emily fills some of those roles for his boy.

But he can't ignore how nervous it made him feel.

Jack wanted to bake cookies with Emily because his friends were baking cookies with their mothers.

Yeah, like that's not a punch in the face.

Aaron knows he carries more than residual guilt for what happened to Haley, for taking such a fantastic mother away from his son, for all the things she couldn't handle. He finds it very easy to admit that part. No woman like Haley deserves what Haley had to endure. He feels like he should have been able to stop it.

Huh.

Maybe Emily's far from the only one bringing baggage into their relationship.

Of course, he knew that going in. He's not whole, no more than Humpty Dumpty when he fell off the wall. She isn't either and hadn't that been one of his cornerstones in fighting for them?

And it's not like either of them have crossed a line. Beyond the connection he'd made about Jack, mothers and cookies, neither of them have made any moves to make him think Jack was thinking of Emily as his mother. He's a smart boy and Aaron's worked hard to make sure Jack knows his mother, so it shouldn't surprise him.

It also means he really shouldn't be getting up in arms about a slip. Or an innocent statement. It's  _his_  brain that connected Haley, mothers and cookies, not Emily's and, from the look Jack gave him, certainly not his boy's.

And it's not like Emily's running a campaign to win Jack. She doesn't have to. She's never really had to. Jack took to her quickly, not that he blames his boy. Now that he knows Emily he sees how easy it is to fall into the spell she doesn't even know she weaves. She's just that type of person, the type that lightens your day, cares because she can, not because she has to. He resented her at first, he knows that now, because she came in while they were all still smarting over Elle, when Aaron wasn't quite sure who or what to trust, but she's carved herself so deeply into their lives now. The six months without her taught them all that.

He wonders if Jack missed her the most, if somehow his little boy had known that Emily was the type of person to always,  _always_  keep close. And sometimes she does have the right words when he doesn't, when he can't help Jack or Reid or Morgan or JJ. Even Rossi. Emily has a way of stepping up, stepping in and simultaneously not overstepping. It's a shocking talent.

So why on earth did he think she could be replacing Haley in any sense of the phrase?

Maybe it's time to make up for that moment.

He's already hit speed dial before he knows what his fingers are really doing.

"'Lo?"

"Emily?"

"Mmhmm?" It sounds like there's something in her mouth.

"What are you doing?"

"Ha!" Comes over the line, a little muffled, then she's back. "Wrapping presents. I've been wrestling with this corner for five minutes. What's up?"

"Jack and I are going to the park tomorrow," he says. Actually, that's not planned, he's just come up with it now, but he does remember story upon story from Jack and from Haley about the number of snowmen and snow angels they made in the snow. He thinks maybe this is how he can offer an olive branch. "Haley and Jack would spend all day making snowmen and having snowball fights-"

"I'll be there," she says easily. There's no resentment, no awe, but he wonders if she understands.

"Em-"

A hum comes over the line and his brain fogs just a little. Damn woman.

"You know, sometimes you think too much, Aaron."

She does get it. Of course she gets it. He chuckles into the phone. "I'm sorry."

"You're you," she replies. He wonders if she's had just as much time to think this over as he has and that's what's making this easier. "And I'm me, and Jack knows I'm not his mother. And I know I'm not his mother. So you, Mister Hotchner, are going to have to learn that I'm not your first wife."

He sucks a breath of air in through his teeth at the picture that assaults him. But the idea of a wedding has to be so far off for them. It's important that it's far away because too close and they'll spook each other.

She's kind of laughing though. "Down boy. Though I admit, the role reversal is kind of ironic."

"Haley's always going to be there," he says quietly. Maybe this is a conversation that's long overdue.

"So is Ian. So are John and Matthew. We're not coming into this virgins, Aaron."

"How are you so calm?"

"Faith?" But it is a question. "I don't know. I just… I know I'm not trying to take Haley's place. If anything, I'm kind of stealing. Or benefitting from what she's already built. And therapy."

Garrett. He still had to meet the man. "I didn't realize…"

"Yeah. Still going. We're all out of whack because I'm not back at work yet."

Oh. True. "You talked about this?"

"About Haley? Yeah. Just after Ian was killed. We talked about… moving forward and what that was going to mean. What I was going to have to overcome."

Haley's one of those things. Her ghost still haunts them all.

"He's the one that reminded me that this, what we have, what we're building and all that… It's different from what you had with Haley. I can't compete with her and I shouldn't because I'm  _not_  her. And I'm not required to be her. That does her memory a real disservice."

And, like a punch in the face, it hits him and he runs a hand over his face as he laughs a bit. "I thought I was going to be the one fighting for you."

"Eh. I guess we're both going to need to fight a bit. For both of us."

For  _them_.

He clears his throat. "Snow day tomorrow?"

She laughs but understands. It's a lot to handle and he wonders if having that conversation with Garrett wiped her out at the time too. "Snow day tomorrow."

"Okay."

"Okay." She pauses. "Goodnight, Aaron."

"Goodnight, Emily."


	18. December 18, 2011

Sunday is sunny, but bitterly cold, as it is wont to be when there's no greenhouse effect from the clouds. Emily doesn't mind though; she just piles on a couple more layers beneath her coat and slides on an extra couple pair of socks. To her, it's just what's done when there's a day of playing in the snow ahead of her. It's always easier to take off layers than put them on, after all.

Her shoulder is mostly better. She's still taking painkillers and she knows she can't exactly roll the big snowballs, but as long as she's careful, she's pretty sure she can do a whole bunch of great things in the snow with her boys.

Her boys.

That's what they are, aren't they. Hers. She blows out a heavy breath. It takes her off-guard more than a bit. She's been 'damaged' for so long she's not entirely sure how to fix it. Except for the fact that she's pretty sure she has now. As best she can anyway. It's funny because now that she's discussed Haley with Aaron, she's a little more aware of the baggage that they've got going on. That, and the last week of her therapy has been pretty focused on her and Aaron, their relationship, Jack…

She's been going every day. It's easier because she's off with the shoulder injury and Garrett's going to have to be the one to do her back-to-work eval. It's kind of like a prep. Hell, she's pretty sure she won't have to go in for a separate session now, he can just file her evaluation. At least that's kind of what she hopes. They've covered how close it is to Doyle shoving a table leg in her stomach, they've touched on the team's reaction, and hers too. The nightmares are back, most nights anyway, and they've talked about that too. There's very little they haven't covered at this point. So she's pretty confident that Garrett won't need an extra session.

Huh. Maybe that's why she's more comfortable with this Haley thing than he is. She has to talk about it, Garrett doesn't let her beat around the bush about Haley.

She smiles and hums to herself as she walks the couple of blocks to Aaron's apartment. She smiles as she hits the door because she can hear the giggles through the door. She's laughing as she knocks and even Aaron is smiling when he pulls open the door. Jack's head comes around his father's leg and he smiles too.

"It's a snowday!"

Emily laughs a little, leaning into kiss Aaron now that she can. It's kind of helpful and she finds she likes the freedom of it. Jack's nose is wrinkled when she pulls away.

"It's still yucky," he informs both adults as Aaron pulls the door open further, letting her in. Emily gasps and reaches down, grasping the boy that is not giggling and squirming in earnest. She crouches down, despite the million layers she's wearing and presses her lips to his cheek, his nose, his forehead, his chin… She hears Aaron's low laugh above her and Jack's hysterical giggles in her ear and she knows it's going to be a good day.

She looks up at Aaron. "Go get your stuff. I've got Mister Jack here."

He doesn't think twice about letting her handle Jack. He heads for the closet, as she picks Jack's coat off the floor. He's already got his boots and snowpants on, so it's just a matter of getting his coat, scarf and hat on. His mittens are still attached to his coat and they'll worry about that once they're outside. But Jack's a worm and she has to exchange funny faces with him before he stands still enough. She can't blame him. He's excited.

So is she.

It's going to be a bit of a test for herself too. She knows that she's not quite back to one hundred percent. She also knows it's kind of insane to think she would be by now. She knows she's getting lucky by being allowed back to the office full time tomorrow, but Strauss' temporary replacement seems a little more flexible. Either that, or the record of the team speaks for itself: they work better when they're all together.

But that's a thought for another day. Right now, she's got a giggling little boy in front of her, his father looks just about ready to go when she looks up and she's definitely getting warm under all of these layers.

"Ready, Jack-Jack?" she asks as she zips his coat up to his chin. He giggles and tries to nod. It's only the slightest of movement. His scarf doesn't let him move too much, but he'll be warm.

The park's not a far walk and Aaron and Emily don't mind letting Jack run ahead. He doesn't run more than a couple of steps and Emily smiles because it's so obvious he's been coached to stay close. Considering Aaron could have lost him when he lost Haley, Emily knows there's nothing in his life like Jack. There's nothing in her life like Jack.

"We're gonna make the biggest snowman  _ever_!" Jack declares as the park comes into sight. He runs ahead again when they take the first steps into the snowy winter wonderland and jumps into a nearby drift with a squeal. It's been snowing for a couple of days, on and off, and there's enough to build the drifts by this point. He's giggling in earnest now as he rolls around in the drift before he plops down flat and starts waving his arms and legs.

"Come on, Em'ly! Make a snow angel!"

And because she can't help herself, she gets down with him to make snow angels.

. . . . .

They're okay.

There's still a healthy chunk of him that doesn't understand how they're okay. Emily can't be that understanding, can she? About Haley and Foyet and Jack… no one's that understanding. Even with therapy. But she's laughing with his kid and joking around with him… she'd even managed to hit him with a snowball. In the head. They'd laughed about it.

So maybe he is making a bigger deal out of this than he has to. He likes to believe he has the right. A new romance with a seven-year-old involved, no matter how much he wants it, is going to have it's own growing pains. Haley was bound to be one of them. He's just not quite sure when making sure  _Emily_  was comfortable with the whole process became reassuring him that she knew Haley was important to both of them and that she wasn't in this to replace her.

Not that he isn't glad they had that conversation. They needed to have it, he's pretty sure. It's important to both of them that they try their best to avoid secrets. In a lot of ways, that's what damaged his relationship with Haley beyond repair. Not that he blames her or anything, just that he knows Haley didn't want to hear about his work and since work and home were his life, he didn't have anything to tell her about. But Emily doesn't need to be protected like that. Hell, if she wants, she can look up his cases herself. She probably has on occasion, the rare ones where he doesn't just tell her. That happened long before Doyle and it's a habit he's not looking forward to breaking any time soon.

He likes that he can talk to Emily.

It's a freedom he's definitely and totally not used to. She demands it of him though, doesn't let him get away with moping or sulking or being withdrawn. She makes sure he isn't getting lost in his own head because she's learned with a startling clarity how heartbreaking that can be. There are too many dark corners, in hers and in his, and he's slowly growing to like the idea of someone who can walk those terrifying halls with him.

She does it herself every day. With a past like Ian Doyle, or the things he still hasn't talked to her about concerning John Cooley and Matthew Benton, there's no way she's not walking her own very dark path. Jack, he's coming to realize, is enough light for both of them. There shouldn't be anything holding them back. Not really. Except for the fact that they're both two very broken individuals. How are they supposed to fight with that?

They're conversation last night has made him wonder if they have to. He can't know everything about her going in. That takes half the fun out of it, draws away from what they're trying to do here. Aren't relationships supposed to be about getting to know people anyway? Hasn't he learned that no relationship is perfect? Will and JJ don't have a perfect relationship by far. It's too much pressure, on any and everyone involved.

So maybe he just needs to let go. They're bound to fight, they're bound to disagree. That's not only the nature of a relationship, but the nature of their personalities. He's going to want to protect her, she's going to want to shoot him to reassert her independence. So long as she doesn't actually shoot him, he figures it can't be a terrible thing. Or maybe it's just one of a million things on the list of things that make them incompatible.

"Stop it."

He looks up to find Emily framed in the door to the hallway and he swallows. He wants this. All the time. With every piece of his being. When it creeps up on him like this, it's terrifying. He never thought he could want someone this much, let alone want it now. Want her.

"You're thinking too hard again," she says gently, as if she may have stung him. Hurt him. "You're over analyzing."

"You're calm."

She snorts. "I am not. I'm back to work full time tomorrow."

"Desk duty," he reminds her firmly.

"Still duty," she shoots back. "Everything's going to be back to normal. Kind of."

"There's a week until Christmas."

It's almost a non-sequitur, but Emily knows where he's going with it. Of course she does. She's Emily. "I know," her voice is soft, gentle. He's a little afraid of that voice, if only because it makes her sound like she's letting him down easy. Instead, however, she comes towards him, settling at his side. "Jack's tucked in."

He takes a few minutes to say good night to his son and when he returns, he can't help himself. She's dozing, kind of, looking beautiful in the white and red glow of the tree. She looks exhausted too, but it's not like he can stop himself from doing what comes next.

Her eyes flutter open as he steps up beside her and she offers a soft smile. She knows exactly what's coming next, so much so that her hand comes up, she slides his thumb beneath his chin, then arches into him as he leans into her. He doesn't waste any time pushing her back into the cushions of the couch, shifting with her until he's on top of her. She actually moans into his mouth as her hand tangles in his hair. The other is firmly around his waist securing him to her. He manages to slide one hand beneath her shoulder, supporting her injured side while the other slips down her side to sneak beneath the edge of her sweater.

Maybe, he thinks as he sinks into the sensations, this is really what they needed. They haven't had time to themselves really, time to enjoy each other and the changes in their relationship. Maybe this is enough, this is what he needed, because he's not sure he can remember what his own fears and issues even are. They  _work_ , like this, in the field, out of the field… He knew that. So why had he let the ghost of Haley twist him up?

"I let it get to me," he whispers, pulling back from her mouth just slightly.

"Hmm?" Her eyes are glazed when they flutter open and he laughs a little. She's out of it.

"Haley, Jack, the cookies… I let it all get to me."

"Oh." She laughs a little, then kisses him again. "I know. But this relationship isn't one-sided, Aaron."

He has to pause. He has no choice. "Is that what this is?" he asks,  _has_  to ask, even as he presses his mouth to hers again. "A relationship?"

"Doesn't it have to be?" she inquires back, responding and initiating her own set of kisses. "It can't be anything else, Aaron."

"Now?"

"Oh." It's breathed out and it takes him a minute to realize she's stiffened beneath him. Maybe tense is the better word. She's chewing her lip and he only notices when he lifts his head from her neck. "I-"

"Don't know," he finishes for her, leaning in to rest his forehead against hers. "Neither do I."

"I just… Aaron, I know I want this, want you. I just…"

"You'll fight me, fight for me, then the minute I push you're going to make me fight for you?" He blurts the words out, which is entirely uncharacteristic, but he can't help himself.

She relaxes, and he falls a little under the sudden loss of pressure. They laugh a little. "Calling it… something… That makes it real and…"

She's not ready. She's not sure she's ready. And now that she's brought it up it is a bit terrifying. And why do they need labels? They've been doing this now for months without it.

"Okay," he says. "We're… Us."

"Oh," she says, and there's that breathless quality in it again. "Us."

From the way she kisses him, he knows that's a suitable compromise.


	19. December 19, 2011

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Mark Saber - The Case of the Snowman Murder
> 
> PROMPT: McHale's Navy - The Day they Captured Santa

"I arrested Santa once."

The room, once full of sound and happiness because of the sheer number of conversations floating around the conference room, goes silent.

"You what?"

Spencer shrugs. "Arrested Santa. With Gideon. Uh…" He seems to count back on his fingers, but they barely twitch. "Actually, I think it was my first arrest."

"Your first arrest was Santa Clause?" Penelope's jaw's on the floor when she says it. It had started as just sharing Christmas stories so no one has an idea where Spencer manages to find that in his never-ending memory.

"In a mall," the genius goes on. "In front of kids. It was  _awful_."

The team laughs, because everyone can picture it. Nervous Spencer and stone-faced Gideon marching up to Santa to tell him he's under arrest. It would have been insane if only because the BAU doesn't normally deal with routine break and enters or traffic violations.

"Is that where your… fear of children comes from?" JJ inquires.

"I am not!" Spencer protests hotly. "Children don't like me!"

"Henry likes you," Emily picks up, stringing another kernel of popcorn. It's taken them three bags to get a long enough string. "Jack likes you."

"Try a present-wrapped bomb scare in a Toy Mountain," Derek pipes up, saving Spencer. The genius looks relieved and they all chuckle.

"Did you have to dig through the whole thing?"

"Naturally with, like, half an hour until the mall blew up," Derek answers Emily's question. He shakes his head. "I swear, it's impossible to find a bomb with more than an hour to spare."

"And necessarily when you find it an hour early, it's the most intricate thing you've ever seen," Dave agrees. "There was a case in Nashville when the BAU was just starting out where a gang of elves were terrorizing a small town. I kid you not."

Emily laughs. "They dressed up and everything?"

"And everything," Dave agrees. "Worst case. They escalated quickly, we were called in too late,  _everything_  that could have gone wrong did, and I was already fighting with wife number two at the time."

"I take it you didn't get home for Christmas dinner," JJ says tonelessly. She's never been a big fan of people who don't understand the work they do. It takes a lot of hours, a lot of manpower, resources they often don't have, but at the end of the day, the BAU prides itself on getting their man. Or woman. Or group. Whatever. The point is, they do it because they have to. Or because they're good at it. It doesn't make much of a difference which side they choose.

"Nope," Dave says with a wide smile. "But her family didn't like me anyway."

JJ snorts, but offers a sweet smile when Dave glares. "I've got one. We're a sports family, so hazing is like… the norm. But with us, it's just normal pranks, we see the joke, we laugh, we move on. There's a great story of my older brother and me managing to get every single pair of my youngest brother's underwear into the freezer the day before he started first grade."

"JJ!" Penelope gasps, scandalized. But Derek's laughing and so is Dave because they both know what it's like to have siblings. The rivalry is inherent, the fun insane.

"Yeah, I know, not Christmas. But, my oldest brother's wife is as sweet as a pot of sugar, but not necessarily the brightest. The first year she was in charge of Christmas dinner, my mother and I went over early to help 'set up'. It was the first year my mom was just really too old to handle everything and the stress so my brother had… two kids by then, I think? Anyway, she's tending to the kids, and Jackson's with her because two rowdy boys are not something you want to deal with alone, and my mother,  _my mother_ , pulls a Cornish hen from one of the bags we brought over, and we stuffed it inside the turkey."

There's horror on Emily's face even as she says, "I take it your mother isn't usually in on the pranks?"

JJ shakes her head. "Da usually had to poke her. She's the compassionate one. So, everything's fine, we get it all set up, and then Claire pulls the turkey out of the oven. And _flips_. She thought she'd killed a pregnant turkey."

"Turkeys lay eggs," Spencer says automatically. He's actually stopped cutting snowflakes – he's surprisingly proficient with scissors – to hear this story.

"Yeah. Turns out, Claire was pregnant with their third at the time and not really thinking when she flipped. She was  _horrified_."

"My first Christmas? I would be too," Emily agrees.

"Yes, well, Sean usually does the cooking at Christmas, so you have nothing to worry about," Aaron says as he steps into the conference room. He says it so nonchalantly that the room barely blinks, but Emily's breath catches in her throat. "Don't you all have consults?"

"Don't be a Grinch, Hotch," Dave says easily. The room wants to chuckle, because Dave and Hotch rarely see eye-to-eye over moments like this, but they know the somber look on Hotch's face doesn't bode well. Not that they blame him. He's been in meetings while they've been decorating. "Cut a couple of snowflakes. The girls are almost done with the popcorn sting and then we can decorate this baby."

Aaron glances to the tree in the corner, then back to his team. "Fifteen minutes can't hurt." Then he tilts his head to the side. "Dave, remember Montana."

Dave pauses for a moment from mangling his own snowflakes. "The Snowmen?"

"Oh," Penelope squeals, "This is going to be good."

Dave cedes the floor to Aaron with an overly dramatic flourish. "A couple of years ago-"

"More than a couple," Derek coughs out awkwardly and merely grins when Aaron and Dave both glare.

"We were in Missoula, Montana on a string of rape-murders. Montana had gotten feet of snow that year, so the entire city is covered with white. We were on the case maybe two weeks, long enough for locals to know if they followed the news at all. One day, we get this kid in, wrapped and bundled and he says very seriously that he'd like to report a murder."

Dave's already laughing by this point but he manages to get out. "He takes us to his school. The schoolyard snowmen had all been destroyed! It looked like  _carnage_ , and Hotch when this kid's done, without missing a beat, says that unfortunately snowmen are outside our jurisdiction."

Emily's not surprised, but she laughs anyway. This is the man who told his son that Santa could get into their house because they had an angel on top of their tree. His creativity is no longer a surprise, though it still seems just slightly out of character. She likes that, feels like it's something so few people get to see and it's those aspects of Aaron she treasures most.

"Done!" Penelope announces, tying off the end of the thread. They do have a super-long chain, apparently Emily had stopped paying attention, and a pile of little snowflakes to decorate with. It doesn't take them long and they all stand back together to take it in. Emily feels tears coming to her eyes.

"They used to put a tree in the middle of Kiev," she says softly because they've all gone quiet. "Kind of like the Rockefeller Center, except every window around it was also decorated. On Orthodox Christmas they used to turn out all of the street lamps, but it didn't matter because the lights from the houses and the tree lit up the square like it was noon."

"I used to get to decorate my room in Christmas lights," Penelope speaks up, adding her own story for the first time. "We had a box labeled 'Penelope's room' with all of my decorations and stings of lights I hung up every year."

"My sisters always woke me up," Derek adds. "I could sleep until noon by the time I was nine and they never slept past seven. They'd come in at five am and jump on my bed until I woke up. Then they'd do the same to my parents, my Mom, until we were all gathered in front of the tree."

JJ laughs but it's soft, gentle. "Henry did that last year. Will and I had bruises because he doesn't have the best aim."

"Jack waits," Aaron reveals. "He plays in his room until someone comes to get him, even if he's up at six."

"I used to be able to open my stocking," Spencer reveals. "There was always something in there so my parents could sleep in."

"Carolyn loved Christmas." Dave's voice is so soft and wistful that Emily, standing on his right, wraps her arm around him. JJ does the same to the other side and it carries through the team until they're standing together in the conference room, looking at the tree in quiet contemplation.

Then JJ clears her throat. "If you guys don't have plans on Christmas Eve, Will and I are thinking of doing a dinner."

"I'm in," Derek says. "I'm on Christmas rotation this year."

"Same," Dave agrees. Squeezing the blond slightly.

"I'll be there," Penelope agrees, "And I'm dragging Boy Wonder."

Spencer doesn't say anything to the contrary and so all eyes turn to Aaron and Emily. She looks up at him, the question in her eyes. If Sean usually cooks for Christmas, then maybe Jack and Aaron celebrate on the twenty-fourth.

"Sean's coming in on the twenty-sixth this year," Aaron reveals then looks down at Emily. "We can be there."

Then, simultaneously, they all grin, wide and adoring.

"Family Christmas," Penelope whispers, letting go of Spencer to wipe at a tear.

Emily wonders if maybe that's the magic word this Christmas:

Family.


	20. December 20, 2011

Since the Hotchners have shared so many traditions with her, when Emily steps into Aaron's office on Tuesday, she's got one to share with them.

"Got a minute?" she asks, hand still on the doorknob. When he nods she pushes it closed capturing his full attention.

"Something wrong?"

No, but a lot of things were very,  _very_  right. "I have an idea, if we can get out of here on time."

Her on time is his early, but he's nodding slowly nevertheless.

"There's a shelter," she begins, "not far from us doing a soup kitchen."

"Yeah?"

She nods. "Yeah. I think it'll be good. For all of us. You, me and Jack."

He smiles. "I think we can do that."

. . . . .

When she comes to get him to leave, it doesn't take half as much pestering or prodding. He wants to leave with her, both because he's leaving  _with_  her and because they have plans for the night. She hasn't been coming home with him the last couple of nights, and even after their snow day on Sunday didn't stay long, despite the  _strong_ incentive to stay. He's missed her.

"We can take one car," he says softly. He doesn't want anyone overhearing, for one thing, but for another, he doesn't want her to feel pressured. One of the things he knows best about her is that she doesn't like to feel stifled. Reliant.

"Yeah?" She certainly doesn't seem upset or mad by the offer. Maybe shyly surprised.

"Yeah," he agrees. He has to physically restrain himself from reaching out for her, from taking her hand. They live close together, so they can pass of carpooling easy, but getting caught holding hands on the garage cameras? That's an entirely different ball of wax. So he slips his free hand into his pocket, the other one carrying his computer case. They split to go around his SUV and she tosses her bag into the back seat. He smiles as she settles in and lets out a heavy sigh.

It's been a long day. He knows it. Neither of them say anything as he pulls out of the parking garage. In fact, it isn't until he pulls out of the Quantico campus completely that she rests her elbow on the center console, palm up. He doesn't disappoint though and slides his hand into hers. The car ride is comfortably silent and he wonders briefly if she's fallen asleep.

"You're watching me."

He laughs. Okay, so not asleep. "I can't watch you and the road." He pauses though. "Are you sleeping?"

"On and off," she says. "The nightmares still come, sometimes."

That's not a shock. He still gets them too. "Nap," he suggests gently.

"Yeah."

She's still sleeping when he swings by Jessica's to pick up Jack.

"Why's she sleeping?" Jack asks quietly when he notices the woman in the front seat.

"You know some nights you don't sleep as well as others?" Aaron asks his son as he settles him into the booster. He's still a bit too short to have the seatbelt on by itself.

Jack nods.

"Emily's had a few of those," Aaron explains.

Jack waits until his father climbs in the front again. "She's having bad dreams, isn't she, Daddy?"

Aaron smiles at his son, his very perceptive son, in the rearview mirror. "Maybe." He pauses long enough to get back on the road again, then says, "She wants to show us something."

And bless his son, because Jack's eyes light up. "A Em'ly tradition?"

"Mmhmm," Aaron agrees.

"What is it, Daddy?"

God, he loves his son. "I don't know, Buddy. She didn't tell me."

"Oh." He seems put out for a moment, though Aaron's kind of proud they haven't woken Emily yet. She's still out against the headrest. "Did she give you any clues?"

A puzzle. Aaron wants to laugh. His son loves puzzles. "No. No clues before she fell asleep."

Jack pouts, but he's still eager. Aaron can see it in his eyes, the sparkle, the need. He's beyond glad. Jack's shared a lot of traditions with her, though he's pretty sure things like cookies are fairly standard in any family with baking prowess, and Aaron's willing to bet a whole hell of a lot that Jack's just excited that Emily has a tradition of her own to share. Or something. Huh. Maybe it's not even a tradition.

She sleeps the whole way to his apartment and he pulls Jack out first.

"Can I wake her up, Daddy? I promise to be gentle."

Aaron chuckles, but allows Jack his moment. He hoists him up to the passenger's seat after he opens the door.

"Em'ly," Jack calls. It's his normal tone of voice, no longer quiet, and Emily stirs slightly. Jack giggles. "Em'ly, you gotta wake up or you're gonna be a sleepyhead."

Her eyes flutter open then, settling on Jack easily, even though it takes them a moment to clear. She smiles a hand lifting to run over Jack's cheek. "Hey. I slept through picking you up."

Jack giggles again. "Uh huh. You were sleeping."

"Yeah," she breathes out. "Okay. I'm awake."

Aaron lifts his son down, the cocks his head at Emily, who's dropped her head back to the seat. "You okay?"

She laughs a little. "This is why I don't nap," she explains. "I wake up feeling worse." She turns pleading brown eyes to him. "Coffee?"

"Inside," he says with a responding laugh. "Get out of the car, Emily. It's cold."

She does, and opens Jack's door again to get her laptop bag, The boy in question is bouncing at the end of the car, watching until Emily hits the back bumper. Then he's got his arms wrapped around her hips, his head in her stomach.

"Hi Em'ly!"

She smiles and runs a tired hand through Jack's hair. "Hey, sweetie. How was school?"

Aaron shares a smile with her because it's entirely the right question to ask. Jack can talk for hours about what he's done at school. It gets them to the apartment and gives him enough time to make a pot of coffee. Once he's got Emily settle with that, he leaves the two of them to their conversation at the table while he sets about a quick dinner.

"Daddy says you have a tradition to share," Jack says after a while, when he's tired of talking about school.

"Mm, not a tradition, per se," she says, running a hand over Jack's head. She does that a lot, he's noticed. "But there is something I want to do with you guys."

"What is it?" Jack's so eager and he sees Emily smile over it.

"The most important thing for me at Christmas," she begins and she's dropped her voice. "Is giving back to others."

"Like presents?" Jack asks.

"Sometimes," comes Emily's honest answer. "But sometimes giving time is just as important."

"That doesn't make sense, Em'ly."

She smiles at him softly and Aaron realizes belatedly that she's  _nervous_. There's nothing to be nervous about, at least nothing he can think of. She's not going to ask them to go feed homeless people in an alley, he knows that.

"There's a shelter not far from here," she says quietly. "They give a home to people who don't have one, at least for a little bit. And food. I like them."

"How long have you been going?" Aaron blurts. He gets a shrug in return.

"A couple of months," she admits. "After everything… It's just something I had to do and I know that while volunteering during the holidays is a big thing, they need more volunteers year-'round."

He realizes in a flash that this is one of the things she does to battle the insomnia. She has to give, to see good things, so when she goes to sleep she sees that. Maybe it's just a smile for providing a blanket, maybe it's a child's laughter as they scamper around, but it helps.

"It's safe," she goes on. "And they're having a bit of a party tonight. Like early Christmas. They've had enough toy donations that they're good for presents, they just need some people to help out, supervise, deal with the food…"

"We're gonna go help people?" Jack pipes up.

Emily looks at him, the question in her eyes.

"Yeah, Buddy," he finally answers. This means a lot to her. "We're going to give back."

. . . . .

"You were in your element tonight."

They're driving back from the shelter. It's late and Jack fell asleep behind one of the buffet tables. It's not a shock, since most of the other children were passed out on someone's lap or against each other in corners. The shelter had been full of excitement, happiness, and just general Christmas cheer. Jack had loved it. In fact, he'd been a little awed by it. They never really get time to do things like this because when Aaron's home, he just wants to spend time with his boy. But he wonders if maybe they're going to make this an annual thing. Or hell, if Emily'll just take him for the sake of it.

She's grinning from the passenger's seat. "I love doing that stuff. I worked in a soup kitchen in college."

"I thought you said it was waitressing?"

"Isn't it the same thing? Plus, it was the thought that counted at the time."

"You sucked," he remembers.

"Don't rub it in!" She whacks his shoulder.

"It's a beautiful thing to do, Emily Prentiss."

She'd been beautiful, gorgeous. More than once he'd looked up to find her surrounded by laughing children, talking to exhausted and stressed parents, offering a compassionate ear or squeeze of the shoulder.

He pulls into her building and puts the SUV in park, then he reaches over grabs her neck and fuses his mouth to hers. She squeaks, but gives in, angling her head so her muscles don't cramp. "You are beautiful."

Her eyes shimmer and there's wonder in her face. Her hand comes up her thumb brushing his cheek. Her face is open, shining and he's pretty sure his is too. "Get that little boy home. I'll see you tomorrow."

He wants to ask her to stay, to come home with him, but he respects this distance. They've already proven that things can get out of hand when they're given free range of each other.

Is it bad that he can't wait?


	21. December 21, 2011

He screwed up. He screwed up big and he feels like the biggest idiot in the world.

He'd been riding a high from the shelter the previous night, seeing Emily interact with all of those people, parents and children alike. He'd been floored by the need to give her all of that, to give her a family of her own to mother. He'd been sucker punched by the picture of her with her own toddler, her own kids, easily corralling them, ensuring they have fun, but behave themselves. He hadn't been paying attention.

And he'd screwed up.

They'd done the morning briefing, handing out cases and he'd been distracted. It wasn't until lunch, when JJ came in chewing her lip in obvious concern that he'd managed to clear any of the fog from his mind.

*.*.*

" _Got a minute?"_

_He looks up, takes a moment to track JJ as she steps in, to gauge her mood. It's concern, unhappiness. So whatever she has to say, it's important. He flips his file closed, his way of showing she's got his full attention. "Of course."_

_JJ doesn't sit. She stands, playing with her fingers, twisting her ring around, still chewing that damn lip._

" _JJ."_

" _Emily's crying in the bathroom."_

_He's up in seconds, out of his office in less time than it takes to blink. He should have known the other shoe would drop and-_

_Wait._

_He stops dead, so fast that JJ actually runs into his back. He turns to her, stepping aside and out of traffic. "Did she say what happened?" She's been prone to panic attacks, still, he can see it in her eyes sometimes, but never like this. The worst was after a couple nightmares she never totally woke up from. Otherwise, this is the worst he's seen since those beginning days._

_JJ shakes her head with a frown. "No idea. And Hotch… she can't even speak."_

_She's sobbing that hard. Oh God._

_He's off again, like a shot, and JJ's close on his heels. He doesn't have to ask her to be a look out as he darts his eyes around. His team or not, it wouldn't do anybody any good to see him go into the ladies' room. He looks to JJ who nods, then he slips inside._

" _Em?" he calls, thankful the place is otherwise empty. "Em, sweetheart?"_

_He finds her, not that it's difficult by process of elimination, and even he has to admit she looks like hell. He steps in, reaches out and she flinches._

_Shit._

" _Emily." He crouches down in front of her, balancing in the stall, one hand out to her. She's curled herself on top of the toilet seat and if his heart wasn't breaking, he'd probably be reflecting on how pathetically small she looks. "Sweetheart, it's Aaron. Look at me. Please, Em."_

_She does, and it takes a minute for her eyes to clear. "Aaron?"_

" _Hi," he says quietly, gently. This is worse than a full blown panic attack. This is a living nightmare. Something's taken her back to a dark place and the worst part, he thinks is that he doesn't even know which dark place it is._

" _Oh God." She chokes on the words and manages, somehow, to fling herself off the toilet and into him._

" _Hey," he says, running a hand over his head. Apparently, it's a day for miracles, because she doesn't manage to knock him to the floor. "Come on, sweetheart. Stand up with me." It's so much easier to wrap his arms around her when they're standing and he shuffles them out of the tiny stall. She's sobbing into his neck and he vaguely realizes she's going to leave mascara all over the collar. Not that he minds, per se, but he's not sure he wants to endure the questions. This is already going to go around the team like wildfire, he doesn't need the physical reminder._

_Eventually, she calms down and he pulls away, smoothing her hair back behind her ear._

" _What is it, Em?"_

_Living nightmares aren't normal, that much he knows. They shouldn't be happening without a trigger._

" _Nothing," she says, voice raw and scratchy, even as she clings to him. "I'm okay."_

" _No, you're not," he argues, voice quiet but stern. Crying in the bathroom does not equal okay. They're past this point, aren't they? "Emily."_

" _Just… One of the files."_

_He blinks. He's been very careful with the cases he's given her over the weeks, over the months even. He double checks the stabbings, avoids disembowelments, and stays away from burns. She's been doing a lot of strangulations, shootings, rapes…_

" _What file?"_

_She sighs. "I… There's a case in Sparks, Nevada. String of murders." She sucks in a very deep breath, her arms tightening around his back so much so that she pulls him against her. Her head tucks under his chin. "He marks them. Brands them."_

_He knows she's not talking about tattoos and carving wouldn't set her off. "Shit."_

" _Yeah," she says, but there's no blame in her voice. Maybe resignation, but definitely not blame._

" _Emily-"_

" _Don't," she interrupts quietly. "Please don't apologize."_

_He sighs, tucks her closer. "That wasn't supposed to be your case."_

" _It caught me off guard is all," she admits. Then she sighs and pulls back. "You've been picking my cases."_

" _Yes." He doesn't hesitate, can't really. He cares and that's why he does it._

" _Aaron-"_

" _Don't tell me to stop," he says. It's one of the few ways he feels like he can protect her, monitor her, help her. She does so much on her own now, but he can still tell when she's had a night of sleeplessness. He knows when the terror is haunting her._

" _I can't be coddled." Again, there's no resignation there, like he knows that this is a battle that he wants to fight for her, even though he shouldn't._

" _You don't need to see those cases, Emily."_

" _Like you don't need to see the cases that have little boys in them? Like JJ doesn't need to face down the same? Like Reid doesn't have to face down his entire life every time we-"_

" _I get it," he stops her on a sigh. "It's too soon."_

_She knows she doesn't have as strong of an argument as she'd like. She just had a freaking breakdown in the bathroom. She's really more proving his point than helping her own. "Won't it always be too soon?"_

" _It's too close."_

_She knows she has to give him that one._

_He knows it too and huffs out a breath. "Hand this one off. The next time it comes up, we'll talk, see how you feel about it."_

_It's a compromise. They both know she has to take it._

_And it sucks._

*.*.*

"Aaron?"

He looks up to find her in the doorway to the hall. She's been playing with Jack. He'd been in charge of dinner. Right. Food. Dinner. Crap. He runs a hand through his hair. God, how had he messed up so terribly?

But there's only understanding in her face. She sighs and holds out a hand. "Come here."

He does, both because he's drawn to her and because there's something in her eyes. Steel maybe, determination. She leads him to his bedroom then disappears for a moment. When she comes back, she closes the door. Then she reaches for the buttons of her blouse.

"What the hell are you doing?" he blurts.

Her head snaps up, and she looks down at herself then back at him and laughs. "Sorry. No. Not yet."

He relaxes, but only marginally because she keeps going. She's not seducing him but he has to watch her strip? Yeah, like that's anywhere close to fair. But she stops at her blouse, shrugging it off her shoulders and laying it over the end of the bed before tugging him into the ensuite.

"The light's better in here," she says in answer to his confusion, and flicks it on. It's bright and she steps up to the mirror, sliding in front of him and wrapping one of his arms around her waist. The other one takes his, brings it up to brush over the scar just above her left breast.

Doyle's brand.

"Hurt like hell," she tells him. "He said it was a gift. A nice addition to the other tattoos I have."

When she drops her hand his stays, tracing over the silvery skin of her burn scar. She wraps both of her hands around the arm she's pulled around her waist. Then she pulls that hand over, lays it across the scar on her abdomen.

"They're memories, I guess," she says. "Horrors. I don't like what they do to me, but they're not your fault. Today wasn't your fault."

He can't help the self-deprecating chuckle he releases. "I was so wrapped up in last night, in being happy."

"That's not a bad thing," she whispers.

"It is when I hurt you."

"Aaron," she turns, wraps her arms around him. "I'm fine. Spooked, yeah, but fine. Like I said, it took me off guard. It shouldn't have. We know sadists like burning sometimes. It was bound to happen sooner or later. And this time it was just a consult. When we have a real case, I'll be better. I have to face this."

Doyle can't haunt her. Them. Anything and this is her way of dealing, of telling him that.

She pushes up on her toes because she is just a little shorter than he is. "I'm  _alive_ ," she says against his mouth. "These scars, the damage they've done, the therapy, the rehab, the hiding… It all means  _I'm here_."

"Yeah," he finally agrees on a heavy exhalation. He presses her mouth to hers, desperate, apologetic. Proving. They're both here, both alive, together. She lets him lift her to the counter, lets him step between her legs. This is reaffirmation and he sure as hell hopes one of them eventually knows where to stop.

Apparently, they don't, because neither of them really have any idea how long they've been necking when the knock comes on the door.

"Daddy, Em'ly? I'm hungry."

They both chuckle, pulling back to survey the damage. He's got a lipstick stain to go with the mascara stain on the collar of his t-shirt her hands have rucked up to get at skin. Her pants are undone and with a shiver she can remember his hands kneading her ass over her panties. He's got a mark on his collarbone and she knows she's got a few of her own from the way he'd sucked on her shoulder, the skin around her scar.

"Dinner," she breathes.

He groans, shifting his hips against her and she gasps, then laughs.

"How about I handle dinner," she says, palming his cheek. Her lips turn up in a self-satisfied smirk. "I think you need a minute."

He catches her hand as she heads for the bedroom. "Thank you," he tells her sincerely. Because it's exactly what he needs to feel better. He thinks too negative sometimes, and she helps him see the other side. The scars, for example, aren't proof of the torture she endured, but of the continuation of her life.

She steps back to him, presses a soft kiss to his mouth. "Always."


	22. December 22, 2011

The ice rink is chilly, but not cold, and it's not like JJ really feels either. She is much, much,  _much_  too excited.

Really, she likes that they're taking time to be a family. She likes that instead of them all going back to their homes, most of them alone, they've gathered at a skating rink to hang out together. And they're  _all_  there, Dave included, even though the older man argued he was to old to be skating. The funniest part is that it was Jack and Henry that convinced Dave to rent a pair of skates and get on the ice.

But JJ  _loves_  it. Adores it, really. She's so happy to be skating around, holding her son's hand – he's still young, but he tries so hard – and seeing her friends, her family, as she goes. It means a lot to her to have them all here at this time of year, to see how far they've all come to get to this point. After the summer from hell, they're all here, together, and there is absolutely nothing in the world like it. Not a bloody thing.

Speaking of…

JJ's been watching Emily and Hotch all night. She can't help it. Now that almost all of the relationships in the team have been fixed, it's about which ones are going to move forward and Hotch and Emily's definitely fits that bill. It's also surreal. They're essentially the two people who  _haven't_  broken through the whole recovery process – putting aside Emily's breakdown the previous day and the uncertainty that was pouring off Hotch until this morning – and they've been integral in putting the team back together again.

More than that though, they look good together. They skate in unison, which is both really adorable and surprisingly creepy. For now, Jack's between them, but the seven-year-old has harassed each one of them in turn. He turns to look up to Emily and she's grinning down at him. Jack laughs, hard, and Emily and Hotch respond immediately, swinging him forward through his hysterical laughter.

"Cher."

She looks over, managing to avoid running into an elderly couple she's kind of impressed is making their way around the rink. She laughs. "Sorry."

Will smiles and tugs Henry marginally closer. "Go."

JJ blinks for a moment.

"Get Emily, Cher."

Oh. Huh. He wants her to talk to Emily because he thinks she wants to. He's not far from the truth. She spins them aside with a smile and presses a quick kiss to his mouth. She tickles Henry under the chin then skates away. She catches Emily's hand and tugs and Emily turns in confusion. JJ links her arm with Emily and arches an eyebrow.

Hotch's laugher falls over both of them and his eyes are actually twinkling. An entire conversation happens in the three strides they skate forward before Emily detaches herself from Jack and she and JJ skate away.

"You look happy," JJ says as they pace each other.

"I am, Jayje. I really am."

JJ smiles, wide and bright. "Em."

"I know," Emily says quietly with a shy smile on her face. "I mean… Never in a million years, JJ. Never."

"Everyone deserves happiness, Em," JJ says quietly.

"I… I'm really starting to believe it." They're silent for a lap, waving at the team as they pass. Penelope eventually latches onto Emily's other side. "It's… normal, isn't it?"

"The happiness?" JJ asks, simultaneously bringing Penelope up to speed and asking for her own clarity.

"No, us. The team. The BAU," Emily explains. "I just… I wasn't sure we'd ever get here."

"We were always going to get here," Penelope argues, ever the optimist. "It was always going to take time but we were always going to get here."

"But…" Emily's having a hard time explaining what she means, but the blondes keep pace with her easily while she tries to figure it out. Mostly, because JJ's pretty sure she knows where Emily's going with this.

When Emily can't seem to keep going, JJ steps in. "It's like we can move forward."

"Yeah," the middle agent breathes, her eyes alight. "Exactly."

JJ gets it. Maybe it's because she knows what it's like to be essentially on the outside. The whole coming back to the BAU thing rattled her. But  _this_ , right here, the awe, the realization, the steadfast  _belief_ … Yeah, that's what brought her back. She couldn't do this without them, without any of them. She couldn't believe in the job, believe in what they did, believe that family went so very, very far, without them. So Emily's thoughts? Yeah, they make absolute sense.

She's distracted then, by Will skating up beside her with Henry. She detaches herself without really thinking, falling behind her laughing friends. They separate without much thought when Derek tags Emily, but by the next time JJ skates by her friend she's found Hotch and Jack again.

They're happy. They're all happy.

It feels good.


	23. December 23, 2011

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Maude – The Office Party
> 
> PROMPT: Melrose Place – Under the Mistletoe

Dave pulls her aside half way through the annual FBI open house. That's what they call it anyway, because it's more like a drop by thing than an actual party. People are, after all, still on call, still on duty. The Bureau doesn't stop simply because it's Christmas.

"You should know there's a bit of a betting pool going on."

Emily arches an eyebrow. They're always betting on one thing or another at these parties, so she's not exactly shocked. "Am I in it?"

"Kind of?"

Her eyebrow arches higher. Tentative Dave is never a good sign. "Kind of."

Dave sighs. "It's the mistletoe bet."

Ah. Well, not really 'ah' in the light bulb sense, but Emily's pretty sure she knows what's going on. This isn't the first she's heard of the Mistletoe Bet. Hell, she was in on it last year. It's a game of who's going to catch whom under the mistletoe. "Should I be careful where I'm standing?"

"Only if you're standing with Hotch."

Emily almost chokes on her drink. "Hotch?"

Dave sighs. He's not even sure how Hotch was chosen really. They usually pick someone a little less stoic, a little more up for fun and games. He's not even completely sure how Hotch's name came forward, let alone gotten to this point. "Yeah."

"That's insane."

Dave nods, his gaze searching the room.

"Someone's going to die."

That makes the man snort in laughter. Emily smiles back because she too really doubts that Hotch will lose it in front of all of these people.

"Or you make sure it's you."

"And start the rumour mills buzzing?" Emily shakes her head. "It's not really worth it."

Dave huffs out a breath. "There are women in on this pool, Em."

"Didn't know you took me for the jealous type," she responds with a coy smile. She's not, really. She would be if she wasn't secure in what she's building with Hotch but… It's surprisingly comforting to know the guy she's seeing has eyes for no one else, lets her see his insecurities. Or, arguably most importantly, doesn't care that she spent three years sleeping with an international arms dealer.

Then she arches an eyebrow. "You have money one this."

"Of course I do," Dave answers with an unrepentant smile. "Reid and Morgan too."

"And Hotch doesn't know."

"That ruins the fun."

Emily releases a heavy sigh. "If he gets in trouble, JJ and I are raiding your scotch drawer in your desk.  _And_  you sit victimology for two cases."

"You snitch." But there's laughter in his eyes and voice. "It's good to have you back, Kid."

She smiles. Emily knows exactly what he means. She's back, he's back, they're all back. She leans up on impulse and presses a kiss to his cheek.

"Merry Christmas, Dave."

. . . . .

It takes a couple of hours for Emily to catch up to Aaron. It is partially deliberate, but a lot accidental. They meet at the punch bowl just after she's slipped away from the most boring conversation she's ever had in her life – exaggeration, that goes to the Ambassador of the Ukraine when she was ten – and sidles up in line, budding in.

"Good party."

He sends her an eyebrow that makes her laugh. "There are three springs of mistletoe and people have been trying to shove me under it," he hisses to her.

She bites her lip against the laughter that wants to emerge. "Maybe they just figure you're finally over Haley."

He rolls his eyes at her.

"Or maybe I should be careful drinking this punch?"

That makes him chuckle as he hands her a cup. They both step out of the way then, because that's all they both wanted. She takes a sip and sighs. "This is the only time I'm incredibly appreciative of the no alcoholic punch rule."

"That doesn't mean people aren't breaking into the real stuff," he points out. They both glance over to the other side of the room where a rowdy bunch of agents from C Team, looking a little pink in the face, are laughing heartily.

She chuckles, then glares at Derek as he nudges her to the side just a little more. Aaron steps with her, hiding a smile in his cup. But she knows better. Derek just offers them both one of his widest grins. It makes Emily wonder if maybe he's digging too much into the alcohol. But then the whispering starts and she feels embarrassed heat crawling up the back of her neck.

What the hell?

Aaron's the one to spot it. She knows because he goes stone still and her eyes drift closed. She knows exactly what's going on now.

Sure enough, when she tilts her head back to look, there's a sprig of mistletoe. It's strategic, really, considering there's only a handful of them about. It's in the perfect place for people, like her and Aaron, who don't want at the food, but want a drink. Just far enough out of the way to be inconspicuous.

Shit.

Well, Dave had warned her.

She sighs and meets Aaron's eyes. She knows what's supposed to come next and she knows that they have two options. At the panic in his eyes, she knows she's going with option two. She leans in and presses a gentle kiss to his cheek. There's a chorus of groans and Emily smiles, laughing as she draws back.

Then he startles her. He catches her neck, stills her movement, and presses his mouth gently and briefly to hers.

Unanticipated.

Entirely.

That's when the cheering starts.

When they step away, Derek sweeps her up in a hug. "You just made me rich, Girl."

Emily arches an eyebrow and Derek just laughs, all but dancing away. Penelope too is grinning and Dave, standing with all of them sends her a wink.

Aaron's smiling in resignation when she turns back to him. "Mistletoe Bet?"

"Yeah."

He nods slowly. "That explains why I suddenly became the most popular man in the room."

She laughs and smudges lipstick from the corner of his mouth without thinking. "Yeah. Dave told me."

"He didn't tell me."

"Apparently that takes all the fun out of it." She looks up at him. "Do we need to get our stories straight?"

"No," he decides after a moment, and Emily's heart sings. His eyes flick over to where Dave and Derek are celebrating, Reid looking on in amazement. "But I think we need to go collect our winnings."

Emily follows his gaze and grins.


	24. December 24, 2011

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Dr. Kildare – A Candle in the Window
> 
> PROMPT: Just Cause – The Wives of Christmas Past

Dave texts them early afternoon asking them all to bring a handful of candles to an address on the outskirts of the city. So Emily bundles up against the snow and finds a bunch of candles from a kitchen drawer. She's ready when Aaron and Jack pick her up. She takes the time to lean into the back seat and press a kiss to Jack's cheek, then does the same for Aaron.

"Merry Christmas Eve!" she almost sings as she belts herself in.

"Tomorrow is Christmas," Jack almost squeals enthusiastically. It's fantastic to see the little boy so over the moon for the evening and his morning ahead.

"It is," she agrees, exchanging another smile with Aaron. His hold more though, a knowledge that by tomorrow, she has to make a decision. As if she has a decision to make at this point. She knows what her answer is going to be.

Tomorrow is just the beginning.

Jack chatters away in the back as they drive, sometimes stopping for long enough to belt out a song on the radio in the way kids do. Aaron and Emily are content to let him go, especially when he reaches over for her hand, tucking it in his and resting them both against his thigh.

The address is essentially a forest. Aaron and Emily exchange a brow and she wants to make a quip about finding Dave the perfect tree, but something in her gut tells her it's not the time. Instead, she pulls Jack from the back seat and sets him on his little feet. Dave's already there, hands in his pockets, breath floating up. He offers Aaron a hearty handshake and Emily a quick kiss to the cheek before he holds a hand out for Jack. The seven-year-old doesn't hesitate to share a solid handshake with the other man. Penelope's standing off to the side with Kevin and they exchange hellos and Merry Christmases. It's not much longer before the rest of the team arrives and Aaron's raising an eyebrow Dave's way. The eldest agent has been surprisingly mum about what they're doing and where they are.

"It's a memory garden," he finally says. He has everyone's attention in that split second and he knows it. "Everyone brings their own candles to light for those that can't be with is this year."

Aaron sucks in an almost silent breath. The only way Emily knows about it is because she's half leaned against his chest.

"There's no pressure," Dave makes sure to say. "You don't have to come in. We've had a rough year and sometimes it's important to remember those who have had an impact on our lives, but can't be here, for whatever reason."

Emily's heart clenches when Jack asks, "Like Mommy?"

"Exactly," Dave replies gently. "You can use that as a... Conduit, I guess is the word, to help you talk to them, or just a memory. That's up to you."

They all head in. Turns out, it is pretty much a forest. There's a clearing in the middle of the trees and it virtually sparkles in the dark with the flickering candles. Emily's in awe and she knows Jack is too. She's almost dragging him along when he'd obviously rather stop and stare. JJ's solved that problem by perching her son on her hip, but Emily's not quite sure she can handle that just yet.

As it is, this isn't her first memory garden. She's been doing this since her abortion at fifteen. It's the best she and Matthew could come up with as two teenagers struggling to make sense of the world they stumbled upon, the one where nothing is what it seems anymore.

Aaron, though, looks a little stunned. She's not sure she can blame him really. He's dealt with Haley's death in his own way and she can tell he's torn. She leans into him, where he's stopped just to the left of the entrance.

"If you're not ready," she begins, "I can take Jack. If you don't want him doing this, I can go on my own. Like Dave said, no pressure."

He looks down at her and she can almost see the argument happening behind his eyes. He wants Jack to remember his mother, to be allowed to remember her in more ways than just talking to her through their usual candle, but he's not sure he's ready to face that. She's not even sure what she's going to do yet. There's a part of her that wants to leave one for Ian Doyle, the side of the man she loved. She hasn't decided that.

Everyone else has drifted, away to different corners both separate and together. It kind of breaks her heart that Reid's standing by himself, but JJ isn't too far away on his left and Derek's not that far on his right. Penelope and Kevin are a couple of trees over. Dave, however, is across the clearing. She looks to Aaron's indecisive face, then to Jack, then to Dave. She leans down to Jack's level.

"Can you stay with Daddy?"

He nods, because it's not like he's going to tell her no, and Emily slides through the rather sizable crowd to Dave's side. She links her arm through his without thinking.

"I was in my first memory garden at fifteen," she tells him quietly. He squeezes her arm against his side. She doesn't need to go into detail. Dave already knows.

"Did you ever tell Hotch?"

"No," she admits. "Some scars are still too raw to touch."

He deserves to know, but they both know that sometimes, things come with time. Right now, they're still moving forward. If the day comes where they have to have that conversation, she can sit down and talk about it. Right now, they're not there yet.

"I light one for the baby I lost," she says, shifting and reluctantly releasing Dave to dig the candles out of her purse. "And one for the friend I lost."

"And Doyle?"

She blows out a breath. "Not this year."

Dave twists his own candle between two fingers. It's a beautiful deep green. "It was her favourite colour."

"You loved her."

"Very much." He grows older in the span of a split second, his eyes sagging, tired. "It shouldn't have been her."

She knows the feeling, but instead of dwelling on it, she reaches for one of the hanging lanterns. Step two is lighting the candle and she does so off of one of the others casting a dim glow on the rest of the clearing. Once it's securely inside, she finds a branch and makes sure it's stable. She does the same with the other one, and waits patiently while Dave follows suit.

"You know, Matthew used to say: Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not-

"Delight in evil but rejoices with the truth," Aaron picks up, startling them both. Jack is still gripping his hand, but he's holding a candle that's already lit. "It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."

"1 Corinthians 13. Kind of," Dave says quietly. "Carolyn's favourite."

"Mine," Aaron says, surprising them. He's not exactly the religious type. "It was part of my wedding vows to Haley."

Much to Emily's surprise, it only strengthens what she believes. It's not just Haley that loved with every piece of her, Aaron does too, and he believes in love, in faith, in hope. It means he can definitely believe in them.

Everyone drifts their way as Aaron hangs Haley's candle. They stand in silence around the tree for a moment, then, with a look around at each other, they leave in unison, trudging out through the snow.

. . . . .

JJ's is a happier affair and they make it into a party. There's eggnog and gifts, people and laughter. Jack passes out on Emily's lap when the sugar wears off and Aaron is the one to buckle him in the car seat for the ride home. When they pull up to Emily's building, he catches her hand before she can get out.

"Come home with us."

Emily blinks. She doesn't have to say anything about her decision until tomorrow. "Aaron."

"To sleep," he says. "Emily."

It's in his voice, the knowledge of how this is going to go and she can't honestly say she wants to sleep in an empty bed when they're so close. And the look in his eyes tells her, most certainly, that she won't be by herself if she chooses to stay with them.

"We're not ready," she says gently.

"Not for that," he insists. "If you're going to do Christmas, it just makes sense."

It does. Even she knows it. She's just worried because being there, Christmas, how long they've waited… it all adds up. She's not sure it's really safe for her to stay the night in his bed.

"It just makes sense."

Emily lets her mind open, lets herself look at Jack waking them up, at sleeping beside him, wrapped up in him and she sighs. "It does."

"So stay."

She chews her bottom lip for a moment, then leans in to brush her mouth against his. "Okay," she says pulling back. "I'll stay."


	25. December 25, 2011

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Dr. Kildare – An Exchange of Gifts

Jack wakes really early. But he knows the rules and Daddy told him last night when they got home that if he woke up too early, he had to play in his room until someone comes to get him. He's excited though. Really excited.

It's finally Christmas!

Which means there's one other thing he needs to accomplish before he can say it's a good one. One last tradition.

On well-practiced tiptoe, he makes his way out of his room. Daddy's door is open just a little, but Jack knows better than to touch it. He did once and Daddy freaked out, so he's not going to tempt fate. He's breaking a rule as it is to be out of his room, but  _he can't help it._ He wants to see if Santa made it.

Like always, since Jack can remember anyway, the lights on the tree are on. It's how Santa manages to find them, Jack knows. He bypasses the tree though, because if there are any presents from Santa, they're wrapped - he's okay with that because unwrapping is the best part - but his stocking on the other hand... His stocking is always out in the open.

And it is again, against the corner of the couch with Daddy's and a third one. One Jack's never seen before. So Jack climbs on the couch. They've never had a third stocking before. He's pretty sure it's not for Mommy because they talked to Mommy last night at the memory garden. He liked that. It was pretty, even though it looked like it made a lot of people sad.

There's no name on it, but Jack's pretty sure there's girl stuff in there. His brow wrinkles. He knows Emily said she'd celebrate with them, but he didn't think she'd be there for the morning. No one's ever there in the morning. But when Jack looks at the door, her shoes are there. He takes a moment, like Daddy taught him when he's going to have a tantrum and he can't control himself, to figure out if something's wrong. It doesn't feel right, really, but it doesn't really feel wrong either. He likes Emily. He loves Emily. And it was ver hard for him when she was gone. He missed her. But this is also something he and Daddy have always done alone since George took Mommy away. That's the part Jack's not so sure about.

He also remembers the talk he and Emily had about how she and Daddy have been kissing and what that means for staying. Jack knows he'd be happy if Emily stayed forever. He'd like that a lot. Emily's fun and funny and Daddy's both funner and funnier when she's around. He doesn't look so heavy or sad. It's not so hard for him. And Jack doesn't miss Mommy so much because Emily loves him. Jack knows that.

He feels a smile crack across his face.

Emily is  _really_  staying.

Emily is here for Christmas.

 _All_  of Christmas.

Smart boy that he is, he knows that since Emily is not on the couch, there's only one other place she can be. He can't help himself. He has to check.

He tiptoes back down the hall to Daddy's room and nudges the door open as slow as possible. But there's a squeak, one Jack knows is there and he doesn't manage to stop the door before it hits that point. He winces.

"Jack?"

He woke Daddy. He pouts to himself, but steps inside anyway.

"Everything okay, Buddy?"

"Uh huh," Jack answers in a whisper. He tiptoes to Daddy's bed. "Daddy, I broke the rules."

Daddy chuckles a little and opens his eyes. "You always do."

Jack bites his lip. "Daddy, why is Em'ly not on the couch. She has a stocking and her shoes are at the door like yours..."

"She's on the other side of the bed." There's something weird on Daddy's half-asleep face, but Jack's too little to understand what it is. Instead, he chews his bottom lip.

Daddy sighs and sits up. "Come on, Jack."

Jack smiles, wide and bright. He scrambles up on the bed and sees Emily's head. He climbs over Daddy and crawls under the covers.

"There's a little Christmas elf in bed," he hears Emily mumble into the pillow.

He giggles. He can't help it. "I'm not an elf."

"No," Daddy says, "but if you want to stay you have to lay down and be quiet, okay? The rules were nothing before eight o'clock."

"What time is it?" Emily asks.

"Six," Daddy groans. Emily does too.

"Six is way too early to be excited for Christmas, sweetie," Emily tells him, curling her arm around him like she does when they cuddle on the couch. Jack settles in against her, feels Daddy on his other side and smiles wider. He's wiggling in excitement.

"You're staying for Christmas," he whispers, laying his head down on the pillow beside Emily.

Her eyes blink open. "Of course," she says. "I said I would."

"But...all of it."

Emily's eyes drift closed again. She looks kind of like he does when he can't stop falling asleep. There's something on her face too as she looks over Jack to Daddy. "Yeah," she says and Jack just  _knows_  there's some sort of adult conversation happening he can't figure out. But then Emily's smiling at him and kissing his forehead. "All of it."

. . . . .

When Aaron wakes the second time, Jack and Emily are still curled up beside him. He hadn't expected his son to come in at six in the morning asking him about Emily, but he also doesn't really have the heart to wake them either. Instead he rolls over. They've slept in, not that there's a schedule on Christmas. He's just surprised that Jack hasn't woken and it's almost nine.

Aaron takes advantage though. He has an idea. They don't have to open stockings in the living room this year.

He's really glad he put together an extra stocking. He'd been surprised the previous night too that Emily had packed a stocking's worth of things for him too. Studiously, he hadn't looked as she'd packed it up, but now they all had a stocking to open. He knows his happiness is disproportionate, but he can't help it.

When Jack mentioned all of Christmas, there had been something entirely different in her gaze. It hadn't been one that said 'all of Christmas' and more one that lent truth to the real words she said:

'All of it'.

She'd be there for all of it.

That's the part that warms his heart. Because the look in her eyes wasn't just talking about all of Christmas at all. It was talking about more.  _She's_ talking about more.

He returns to the bedroom with two coffees, putting Emily's on the bedside table on 'her' side of the bed. By the time he makes it back with the stockings, Emily's awake and taking her first sip. Jack's blinking groggy eyes at him, but they clear instantly when he fixes them on the stockings.

"Christmas!" he yells and Emily barely gets two seconds to put her coffee on the end table before Jack's bouncing. She reaches out and snags his little boy by the waist, tumbling them both back into the sheets.

And he finds himself thinking of forever again.

He pastes a Jack appropriate glare on his face as his son giggles. "No bouncing, buddy. We're going to open our stockings in here today, okay?"

Jack settles at the word stocking but keeps giggling. When Aaron's back on the bed, Jack climbs into his lap to hug him, toppling two of the stockings in the process.

"Merry Christmas, Daddy."

Aaron squeezes him back. His little boy. His blessing. And then there's Emily, watching with watery eyes. She's his second chance. His next forever.

"Merry Christmas, Jack."

. . . . .

They move to the living room for the real presents, but Emily can't help reflecting on the fact that maybe her real present is right in front of her nose. Aaron's on the floor with Jack as they pull apart the wrapping and packaging of one of Jack's new toys. The room is littered with gifts, the majority of which are the little boy's. A spoiled, well-loved little boy. She laughs from the couch while they try and fight the toy out, even though her heart is lodges in her throat.

She's nervous.

Maybe even terrified.

She'd battled with what to give Aaron. It had hit her with surprising accuracy one night, but she's very nervous about it. It's a gift she's not sure she should give him. But she also knows it's too late now.

They're down to the last two presents.

Once Jack's toy is out of the box, Aaron returns to the couch with an overly dramatic sigh. She giggles to herself because Aaron Hotchner and 'overly dramatic' are not usually words she would think go together. But he's smiling at her and she smiles back.

"I'm happy," she tells him, absently reaching out to run a hand through his hair. It's sticking up at a million angles and is so far from Hotch that she's been smiling every time she sees it.

He's up again a second later though, bringing the two gifts back with him. Hers is deceptively heavy for something so small and Aaron smiles. Then they're sitting the, looking at each other.

"You first," he says softly.

She rips at the paper and lifts out another box. When she pops it open, there's a polished stone. She traces her finger over the word:  _faith._ There's another one under that, then one under that. Hope, belief, love, four stones in all. Emily holds them in her hands, curiosity in her face.

"Garcia found them," Aaron admits. "You can put them wherever you want, but I gave them to you to remind you about going forward, about what we're going to build."

Emily grins, leaning over to press a kiss to her mouth. When she pulls back, she brushes her thumb over 'love'. "Thank you," she whispers, because though neither of them are quite ready to actually voice the sentiment, she hears him loud and clear.

It doesn't help her anxiety about her gift though.

Instead, her heart leaps back into her throat as he carefully unsticks the tape of his gift. Inside, she knows, is a pretty Christmas box. It's what's inside that counts.

He lifts the first piece of paper and opens it.

She closes her eyes. She knows what it says. By heart.

She wrote it.

She wrote all of this.

"Emily." The breathlessness of his voice has her relaxing marginally. He sounds like he's in awe.

"They're letters," she tells him unnecessarily. "Your letters."

"Letters you never sent."

"I wrote them while I was on the run mostly. The ones at the bottom are more recent. Some are from therapy," she says.

"Emily,"

She's stunned him. Utterly stunned him.

When he looks up at her again, everything's in his eyes. All of it. The pain, the pressure, the guilt, the pleasure and emotions Emily's not sure she wants to name. It's a moot point though because she knows her face is saying the same thing.

_Merry Christmas._

_I love you._


End file.
